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Contiuct  a0  a  iftne  art 


THE 


LAWS    OF    DAILY   CONDUCT 


By  NICHOLAS  PAINE  OILMAN 


^Ul/ 


CHARACTER   BUILDING 


By  EDWARD   PAYSON  JACKSON 


IVe  study  Ethics  for  tlie  sake  of  Practice 
Akjstotlb 


BOSTON    AND    NEW    YORK 

HOUGHTOX,  MIFFLTN   AXD    COMPANY 

(Cbe  llttifrsitie  ^^ri'ss,  CamfariDge 

1892 


Copyright,  1891, 
By  NICHOLAS  PAINE  OILMAN 

AND 

EDWARD   PAYSON  JACKSON, 
All  rights  reserved. 


THIRD    EDITION. 


77ie  Riverside  Prcw,  Cambridge,  3fass.,  U.  S.  A. 
Electrotyped  aud  Priuted  by  H.  O.  Houghton  Si  Company. 


THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT 

By  NICHOLAS  P.  GILMAN 

CHARACTER  BUILDING 

Bt  EDWARD  P.  JACKSON 


THE   LAWS   OF   DAILY   CONDUCT 

By  NICHOLAS  PAINE  OILMAN 


Health   of  mind  consists  in   the   percption   of  law 

Its  dignity  consistx  iii  being  under  law 

Emerson 


C0  tijc  ^ahlt  ^rmn  of  CcarfjcrS 

This  attempt  to  aid  the  cause  of  Moral  Education 

in  the  Public  Schools  of  America  is 

dedicated  with  sincere  esteem. 


O'er  wayward  childKood  would'st  thou  hold  firm  rule 
And  sun  thee  in  tlie  liglit  of  happy  faces, 
Love,  Hope,  and  Patience,  tliese  must  be  thy  graces ; 
And  in  thine  own  heart  let  them  first  keep  school. 

For  as  old  Atlas  on  his  broad  neck  places 
Heaven's  starry  globe,  and  tliere  sustains  it,  so 
Do  these  upbear  the  little  world  below 
Of  education  —  Patience,  Love,  and  Hope. 
Methinks  I  see  them  grouped  in  seemly  .show, 
The  straightened  arms  upraised,  the  palms  aslope, 
And  robes  that,  touching  as  adown  they  flow. 
Distinctly  blend  like  snow  embossed  in  snow. 
Oh  part  them  never  !     If  Hope  prostrate  lie, 

Love  too  will  sink  and  die. 
But  Love  is  subtle  and  doth  proof  derive 
From  her  own  life  that  Hope  is  yet  alive  ; 
And  bending  o'er  with  soul-transfusing  eyes. 
And  the  soft  murmurs  of  tlie  mother  dove 
Wooes  back  the  fleeting  spirit,  and  half  supplies  ; 
Tims  Love  repays  to  Hope  wliat  Hope  first  gave  to  Lovs. 
Yet  haply  there  will  come  a  weary  day, 

When  overtasked  at  length, 
Both  Love  and  Hope  beneatli  the  load  give  way. 
Then  with  a  statue's  smile,  a  statue's  strenirth, 
Stands  the  mute  sister  Patience,  nothing  loth, 
And,  both  supporting,  does  the  work  of  botli. 

Coleridge. 


PREFACE. 


The  American  Secular  Union,  a  national  association 
having  for  its  object  the  complete  separation  of  Church 
and  State,  but  in  no  way  committed  to  any  system  of 
religious  belief  or  disbelief,  in  the  fall  of  1889  offered 
a  prize  of  one  thousand  dollars  "for  the  best  essay, 
treatise  or  manual  adapted  to  aid  and  assist  teachers  in 
our  free  public  schools,  aiid  in  the  Girard  College  for 
Orphans,  and  other  public  and  charitable  institutions, 
professing  to  be  unsectarian,  to  thoroughly  instruct 
children  and  youth  in  the  purest  principles  of  morality 
without  inculcating  religious  doctrine." 

The  members  of  the  committee  chosen  to  examine 
the  numerous  ]\ISS.  submitted  were  :  Richard  B.  West- 
brook,  D.  D.,  LL.  B.,  President  of  the  Union,  Philadel- 
phia; Felix  Adler,  Ph.  D.,  of  the  Society  for  Ethical 
Culture,  New  York;  Prof.  D.  G.  Brinton,  M.  D.,  of  the 
University  of  Pennsylvania ;  Prof.  Frances  E.  White, 
M.  D.,  of  the  Woman's  Medical  College,  and  Miss  Ida 
C.  Craddock,  Secretary  of  the  Union.  As,  in  the  opin- 
ion of  a  majority  of  the  committee,  no  one  of  the 
MSS.  fully  met  all  the  requirements,  the  prize  was 
equally  divided  between  the  two  adjudged  to  be  the 
best  offered,  entitled  respectively,  "  Character  Build- 
ing," by  Edward  Payson  Jackson,  one  of  the  masters 
of  the  Boston  Latin  School,  and  "  The  Laws  of  Daily 
Conduct." 

Althoufjli  the  two  books  were  written  with  no  refer- 


VI  PREFACE. 

ence  to  each  other,  they  seem  to  be,  both  in  manner  and 
matter,  each  the  complement  of  the  other.  The  defi- 
ciencies of  each  are,  in  great  measure,  supplied  by  the 
other.  While  "  Character  Building "  is  analytic  and 
cast  in  dialogue  form,  the  present  work  is  more  gen- 
eral and  synthetic  in  its  style  and  treatment.  The  two 
are  therefore  published  in  a  single  volume,  as  well  as 
separately,  at  the  earnest  request  of  the  Union,  and  the 
authors  hope  that  the  joint  book  will  be  preferred  by 
purchasers.  Much  of  the  matter  in  the  introduction  to 
"  The  Laws  of  Daily  Conduct "  is  equally  pertinent  to 
"  Character  Building." 

The  authors  of  both  books  are  friends  to  religion,  and 
they  have  written  from  a  deep  conviction  that  there  is 
a  great  need  of  instruction  in  morals  in  the  public 
schools.  Experience,  however,  has  amply  proved  the 
inexpediency  of  the  attempt  to  teach  ethics  there  on  a 
religious  basis.  Of  the  success  of  this  endeavor  to  place 
the  study  on  a  scientific  basis  others  must  judge.  But 
in  a  country  marked  by  a  great  diversity  of  creeds,  the 
way  of  practice  is  surely  the  one  way  to  follow.  To 
teachers  and  parents  who  would  not  neglect  the  main 
matter  of  human  life  while  imparting  general  know- 
ledge, I  offer  this  volume,  in  the  hope  that  it  may  be 
somewhat  of  an  aid  in  moral  training  in  the  home  and 
in  the  school. 

N.  P.  G. 


CONTENTS. 


Page 
Introduction:  Morals  in  the  Pctblic  Schools. 

Can  they  be  Taught  ? ^ 

Should  they  be  Taught  ?....••  6 

The  Best  Way 10 

Nature  and  Design  of  this  Book        ....        15 
Chaptee 

I.   Life  under  Law 21 

II.   Obedience  to  Moral  Law 34 

,  III.   Self-Control 45 

IV.   Truthfulness ^^ 

V.   The  Law  of  Justice t'^ 

VI.   The  Law  of  Kindness '75 

VII.   The  Great  Words  of  Morality 86 

VIII.   Home 94 

IX.   Work 100 

X.  The  Law  of  Honor     .......      106 

XI.  Personal  Habits 114 

Xn.   Our  Country         .        .        .        .        »        •        •        .122 

I.  Patriotism 1^2 

II.  Political  Duty 125 

XIII.  Character         . -130 

XIV.  Moral  Progress .      137 

XV.  Life  according  to  the  Golden  Rule  .        .        .        -144 


INTRODUCTION. 


MORALS  IN  THE  PUBLIC   SCHOOLS. 

This  small  volume  has  been  written  to  aid  teachers 
in  public  and  private  schools,  and  parents  in  the  home, 
in  the  very  important  work  of  the  moral  education 
and  training  of  the  young.  As  it  is  intended  prima- 
rily for  professional  teachers,  it  has  been  put  into  a 
form  supposed  to  be  especially  suitable  for  their  use. 
But  I  trust  that  some  fathers  and  mothers  will  be  glad 
to  take  hints,  at  least,  from  these  pages.  A  line  drawn 
between  education  at  home  and  education  in  the  school- 
room is  surely  somewhat  artificial  when  the  subject  is 
such  a  matter  as  the  right  direction  of  the  whole  life. 
The  distinction  between  the  home  and  the  school  in  this 
connection  is  not  that  the  home  has,  properly,  a  mo- 
nopoly of  moral  instruction,  but  that  the  field  of  the 
school  is  the  more  restricted. 

There  are  three  important  questions  relating  to  the 
teaching  of  morals  in  public  schools  which  may  well  be 
answered  here,  before  we  take  up  the  main  subject  of 
this  book. 

Can  morality  be  taught  in  these  public  institutions, 
supported  as  they  are  from  taxes  laid  upon  the  whole 
community,  without  doing  injustice  to  any  portion  ? 
This  question,  in  our  present  condition,  resolves  itself 
into  two  distinct  inquiries.  1.  Can  ethics  be  taught 
in  our  common  schools  without  sectarianism,  but  from 
a  religious  standi^oint  ?  For  one,  I  should  answer  this 
question  without  hesitation  in  the  affirmative.    It  seems 


2  INTRODUCTION. 

to  me  possible  to  teach  the  primary  truths  of  practical 
morals  (all  that  it  is  wise  in  any  case  to  attempt  in 
schools  open  to  all),  grounding  them  on  the  great  propo- 
sitions of  natural  religion  in  such  a  way  as  to  give 
no  reason  for  offence  to  any  person  who  accepts  these. 
But  this  task,  confessedly  difficult  when  we  simply 
mark  the  many  diversities  of  religious  belief  in  our 
country,  it  seems  inexpedient  to  undertake  when  we 
remember  that  a  considerable  number  of  our  fellow- 
citizens,  who  are  likewise  taxpayers,  declare  themselves 
to  be  destitute  of  any  religious  belief,  or  even  vigor- 
ously opposed  to  all  forms  of  religion.  A  much  larger 
number  of  persons,  again,  are  believers,  but  are  none 
the  less  hostile  to  any  inculcation,  in  the  public  schools, 
directly  or  indirectly,  of  any  form  of  theology  or  reli- 
gion. They  consider  the  State  to  be,  properly,  a  purely 
secular  institution,  and  they  would  not  have  it  wound 
the  conscience  of  any  citizen  by  teaching  morals  from 
a  religious  point  of  view.  Granting  that  this  would  be 
the  unavoidable  effect  with  some,  be  they  few  or  many, 
of  the  attempt  to  give  ethical  instruction  on  the  basis 
of  natural  religion,  we  are  led  on  to  the  second  question 
under  this  first  head. 

2.  Can  morality  be  taught  in  our  public  schools  in 
complete  separation  from  religion  and  theology,  from 
what  may  be  called  "  the  scientific  standpoint "  ?  Can 
instruction  in  practical  ethics  be  so  given  that  no  injus- 
tice shall  be  done  to  any  portion  of  the  community,  re- 
ligious, unreligious,  or  anti-religious  ?  In  other  words, 
is  there  a  common  ground,  in  the  duties  and  rights  con- 
fessed by  all,  on  which  the  teacher  may  stand  and  give 
tuition  in  morals  as  securely  as  he  does  in  geography  or 
arithmetic  ?  This  question  would  probably  be  answered 
in  the  negative  by  the  great  majority  of  persons  in  our 
country.  They  would,  it  is  most  likely,  say  that  while 
the  teaching  of  morality  Avithout  sectarianism  is  difficult, 
to  teach  it  omitting  religion  entirely,  even   so-called 


MORALS  IN  THE  PUBLIC  SCHOOLS.  3 

"natural  religioB,"  is  practically  impossible.  As  tlie 
present  book  is  an  honest  attempt  to  do  precisely  this 
thing,  it  is  evident  that  I  emphatically  differ  with  the 
great  majority  on  this  point. 

It  remains  for  the  reader,  or  the  user  rather,  of  this 
volume  to  determine  its  value  as  an  answer  to  the  ques- 
tion whether  morality  can  be  taught  from  the  scientific 
standpoint  in  our  common  schools.  The  work  must 
speak  for  itself,  but  the  fact  that  it  is  a  manual  of  prac- 
tical morals,  not  a  short  treatise  on  ethical  theories,  will 
at  once  suggest  to  many  that  the  most  troublesome  of 
the  supposed  obstacles  in  the  way  of  moral  education 
are  left  on  one  side.  In  fact,  I  have  aimed  as  directly  as 
possible  at  actual  practice  ;  I  have  so  far  omitted  ethical 
theory  that  it  would  not  be  strange  if  some  should  be 
uncertain  whether  to  rank  the  author  in  this  school 
of  ethical  theorists  or  in  that :  he  may  belong  to  none  ! 
Such  uncertainty  would  be  a  source  of  gratification  to 
him,  as  an  indication  of  his  success  in  keeping  to  the 
ground  where  all  schools  agree.  The  great  facts  and 
the  main  laws  of  the  moral  life  are  obvious  to  all  ma- 
ture men  and  women  ;  certainly,  they  are  not  depen- 
dent, for  their  clearness  and  their  binding  force,  upon 
any  notions  as  to  the  origin  either  of  the  universe,  of 
mankind,  or  of  the  perception  itself  of  these  facts  and 
laws.  Tlie  facts  of  astronomy  which  affect  men's  daily 
life  —  such  as  the  so-called  rising  and  setting  of  the 
sun,  the  phases  of  the  moon,  and  the  phenomena  of 
the  ocean  tides,  forinstance — are  plain  to  every  one; 
the  explanation  of  them  given  by  the  astronomer  to  the 
farmer  and  the  sailor  (whether  correct  or  not)  will  not 
essentially  change  the  arts  of  agriculture  and  navigation. 
So  the  common  practical  duties  of  human  beings  have 
long  been  familiar.  Each  new  generation  must  learn 
them  afresh,  indeed,  but  it  learns  every-day  morality  as 
an  art,  not  as  a  science.  The  difficulty  lies  in  the  prac- 
tice, not  in  the  theory.     Philosophers  may  dispute  as 


4  INTRODUCTION. 

to  the  exact  reason  why  a  man  loves,  or  should  love,  his 
mother ;  but  the  duty  of  loving  one's  mother  is  not  a 
question  considered  open  to  discussion  in  common  life. 
The  same  may  be  said  of  the  other  obligations  which 
make  up  the  substance  of  their  duty  for  the  great  mass 
of  mankind,  in  all  but  exceptional  times  and  situations. 
When,  then,  we  have  in  mind  as  a  subject  for  public- 
school  instruction,  not  the  science  of  ethics,  not  the 
speculations  of  moral  philosophers,  but  the  orderly  pre- 
sentation of  the  common  facts  and  laws  of  the  moral  life 
which  no  one  in  his  senses  disputes,  we  perceive  how 
the  religious  or  theological  difficulty  at  once  disappears, 
to  a  large  degree.  There  is  possible  a  theistic  expla- 
nation of  the  moral  law ;  there  is  possible  an  atheistic 
explanation ;  but  there  is  a  third  course  open  here  to 
the  common-school  teacher,  —  to  attempt  no  such  final 
explanation  at  all !  It  is  not  necessary  for  him  to  teach 
that  morality  rests  upon  religion  as  its  ultimate  foun- 
dation ;  it  is  just  as  unnecessary  for  him  to  -teach  that 
religion,  on  the  contrary,  reposes  upon  morality  as  its 
basis.  Let  the  relation  of  religion  and  morality  be  as 
it  may  be  :  the  teacher  is  not  called  upon  to  decide  an 
issue  of  this  magnitude.  He  can  teach  the  duties  of 
ordinary  life,  showing  their  reasonableness  and  their  in- 
terdependence, in  a  consecutive,  orderly  manner,  without 
appealing  to  religion  ;  he  can  use  the  plain  and  usual  con- 
sequences of  actions,  good  or  bad,  as  reasons  for  morality, 
without  being  open  to  a  just  accusation  of  irreligion. 
These  consequences  as  he  should  teach  them  are  ad- 
mitted by  all.  He  has,  then,  a  right  in  reason  to  stop 
with  them,  because  of  the  practical  limitations  imposed 
upon  him  by  the  time  at  his  disposal,  the  immaturity  of 
the  faculties  which  he  is  training,  and,  most  of  all,  be- 
cause of  the  wide  difference  of  men's  minds  as  to  the 
final  explanation.  The  intuitionist  and  the  utilitarian 
agree  in  attaching  much  importance  to  the  consequences 
of  action  as  a  test  of  its  moral  quality.     So  far  as  these 


MOBALS  IN   THE  PUBLIC  SCHOOLS.  5 

t'tt'o  keep  company,  the  teacher,  then,  may  safely  and 
properly  go  along  with  them,  not ,  because  he  is,  neces- 
sarily, in  his  own  theory,  an  intuitionist  or  a  utilitarian, 
but  because  he  is  on  common  and  undisputed  ground. 
The  conduct  of  mankind  is  but  little  affected  by  theories 
of  the  origin  of  the  moral  sense ;  this  is  in  the  highest 
degree  true  of  the  children  in  our  schools.  If  the 
teacher  will  constantly  bear  in  mind  that  religion  is  not 
morality,  but  an  interpretation  of  the  whole  of  human 
life  and  the  universe,  he  will  see  that  he  is  not  unre- 
ligious  or  anti-religious  in  giving  to  moral  instruction  a 
practical  limit,  such  as  I  have  indicated,  in  a  scientific 
presentation  of  practical  duty  —  its  facts,  its  methods, 
and  its  laws  —  fitted  to  the  scope  of  the  child's  mind. 

Such  a  limitation  bars  out  all  matters  of  theological 
controversy.  The  sectarian  difficulty  and  the  religious 
difficulty  in  moral  education  disappear  when  we  keep 
to  conduct  and  its  common  laws,  and  stop  short  of  theo- 
logical or  philosophical  explanations  laJ)//  right  is  right 
or  wrong  is  wrong.  If  sectarians  or  religious  people  of 
any  faith  should  denounce  this  abstinence  from  disputed 
matter  as  in  itself  unwise,  wrong,  or  sinful,  we  must  ask 
them  to  consider  more  carefully  that  the  public  schools 
are  for  all,  and  that  the  only  groiuid  on  which  they  can 
stand  and  teach  is  common  ground,  —  as  much  in  moral- 
ity as  in  arithmetic  or  language.^ 

The  first  question  as  to  the  teaching  of  morals  in 
schools  —  the  question  of  its  possibility,  in  justice  to  all 
kinds  of  religious  belief  and  no-belief  —  has  detained  us 

1  The  ancient  philosophers  disputed  long  and  to  little  profit  over 
a  question  which,  as  Dr.  Jowett  says,  "no  one  would  either  ask  or 
answer  in  modern  times,"  —  "  Can  virtue  be  taught  ?  "  In  tlie  Pro- 
tagoras of  Plato,  Socrates  maintains  that  it  cannot  be.  But  this  "  is  a 
paradox  of  the  same  sort  as  the  profession  of  Socrates  that  he  knew 
nothing.  I'lato  means  to  say  that  virtue  is  not  brought  to  a  man,  but 
must  be  drawn  out  of  him ;  and  that  it  cannot  be  taught  by  rhetor- 
ical discourse  or  citations  from  the  poets."  The  discussion  is,  to  us, 
pure  logomachy. 


6  INTRODUCTION. 

long  enough.  Allowing  that  snch  instruction  on  ground 
common  to  all,  believers  and  unbelievers,  and  in  a  sci- 
entific manner,  is  possible,  the  second  inquiry  arises : 
Is  it  desirable  to  give  general  moral  education  in  the 
schoolroom  ?  The  objection  from  sectarianism  and  di- 
versity of  religious  beliefs  has  been  anticipated.  If  it 
is,  in  fact,  possible,  and  even  far  from  difficult,  to  teach 
morality  scientifically,  giving  no  reasonable  ground  of 
offence  to  the  various  sects,  —  any  or  all  of  them,  —  then 
the  further  question  of  the  desirability  of  imparting  in 
the  schoolroom  a  knowledge  of  moral  law  may  be  dis- 
cussed on  other  grounds. 

On  general  principles,  the  common  criticism  of  our 
public-school  system,  that  it  looks  too  much  to  purely 
intellectual  results,  and  that  it  has  too  little  influence 
upon  the  life  of  pupils  after  they  have  left  school,  tends 
strongly  toward  giving  moral  instruction,  noAv  much 
neglected,  a  more  consj^icuous  place  in  the  school  course. 
Many  of  the  arguments  forcibly  used  to  recommend  in- 
dustrial training  bear  upon  moral  training  as  well.  Fair- 
minded  critics  Avho  are  among  the  warmest  friends  of 
the  common-school  system  find  its  chief  defect,  where 
it  has  been  carried,  as  in  the  large  cities,  to  its  highest 
pitch  of  apparent  excellence,  in  its  actual  overrating  of 
knowledge  alone.  Sheer  memorizing  and  cramming  for 
examinations  are  generally  to  be  condemned  on  purely 
intellectual  grounds.  The  training  of  the  mental  poAv- 
ers  of  children,  w^hich  is  surely  a  most  important  part 
of  the  teacher's  duty,  is  very  inadequate  when  the  two 
processes  just  named  occupy  the  place  of  real  honor  in 
the  educational  course.  The  lack  of  adaptation  to  the 
needs  of  real  life  in  which  such  a  partial  education 
results  has  long  been  obvious. 

One  good  remedy  for  the  old  narrow  and  injurious 
insistence  upon  sheer  book  knowledge,  gotten  by  heart 
and  recited  by  rote,  is  the  industrial  training  which 
takes  the  boy  or  girl  away  from  textbook  and  recita- 


MORALS  IN  THE  PUBLIC  SCHOOLS.  7 

tion  for  a  part  of  the  school  day,  and  educates  the  hand, 
the  eye,  and  the  practical  judgment  in  other  work.  It 
is  a  new  discipline  of  the  mind,  compared  with  the 
usual  round  of  study,  and  it  complements  admirably  the 
intellectual  training  given  by  even  the  best  teacher  of 
book  knowledge.  But  it  is,  as  well,  a  new  moral  disci- 
pline in  the  virtues,  the  very  essential  virtues,  of  work. 
If  the  pupils  are  required  to  do  their  manual  exercises 
in  the  training  shop  with  neatness,  alertness,  and  steady 
attention,  with  economy  of  time  and  material,  and  with 
a  thorough  interest  in  their  work,  the  total  discipline 
of  mental  faculties  and  the  moral  nature  is  in  the 
highest  degree  helpful  toward  true  success  in  after  life. 
This  kind  of  education  boys  and  girls  out  of-  school, 
and  men  and  women  earning  their  living,  must  get  from 
actual  life ;  a  gradual  transition  to  it  from  the  education 
chiefly  by  books  is,  therefore,  most  advisable.  Indus- 
trial training,  to  be  of  any  worth,  involves  no  small 
amount  of  moral  training,  given,  of  course,  by  the  same 
person.  The  latter  discipline,  equally  as  a  matter  of 
course,  is  not  to  be  imparted  in  recitations  from  a  book  ; 
it  is  given,  as  in  the  actual  industries  of  men,  by  the 
word  and  the  example  of  the  skilful  and  energetic. 
There  can  hardly  be  any  dispute  as  to  the  desirability  of 
moral  training  in  connection  with  this  department  of 
education ;  no  separation  of  industrial  and  moral  edu- 
cation is  possible.  The  "virtues  of  work,"  as  I  call 
them  further  on,  are  indispensable  to  technical  skill  and 
to  business  success. 

Numerous  educators,  hoAvever,  will  dispute  the  advis- 
ability of  giving  formal  instruction  in  morals  in  our 
schools  as  they  are  now  conducted  (without  any  provi- 
sion for  industrial  training)  ;  they  take  this  ground 
even  when  convinced  that  the  diJB&culties  arising  from 
sectarianism  and  religion  in  general  have  been  over- 
rated, and  can  be  surmounted  by  the  exercise  of  care 
and  judgment.     They  say  that  the  schoolroom  has  a 


8  INTRODUCTION. 

necessary  moral  discipline  of  its  own,  which  is  enforced 
by  every  capable  teacher ;  that  it  is  not  well  to  go  be- 
yond this  ;  that  the  number  of  branches  of  study  in  our 
schools  is  already  sufficiently  great;  and  that  moral 
education  is  the  proper  function  of  the  home  and  the 
church.  But  I  quite  fail  to  see  why  the  moral  matters 
which  are  continually  coming  up  in  the  schoolroom, 
whether  practically  in  the  actual  discipline,  or  theoret- 
ically as  suggested  in  the  reading-books  used,  should  be 
thus  artificially  divided  from  the  ethics  of  the  rest  of 
life.  The  set  teaching  of  arithmetic  and  geography, 
for  instance,  is,  indeed,  the  peculiar  task  which  parents 
confide  to  the  schools ;  but  the  instruction  which  bears 
on  character  is  not  to  be  dismissed  by  the  teacher,  on 
his  side,  as  a  thing  to  be  attended  to  entirely  by  the 
child's  guardians  at  home  or  in  the  Sunday  school.  This 
would  be  taking  altogetl^r  too  limited,  and  partial  a 
view  of  moral  training.  (Wise  instruction  in  the  art  of 
right  living  in  human  society  can  hardly  be  too  fre- 
quent ;  the  practice  must  always  be  going  on,  so  long 
as  we  live  here  on  earth,  and  help  in  making  that  prac- 
tice better  and  more  successful  is  not  likely  to  be  too 
insistent. 

The  child  spends  its  earliest  years  entirely  at  home, 
and  its  parents  are  responsible  for  the  moral  influences 
which  shape  its  infant  character.  When  he  is  five  or 
six  years  old,  he  is  sent  to  school  for  some  thirty  hours 
a  week  out  of  the  one  hundred  or  so  which  are  not  given 
to  sleep.  Henceforth  the  responsibility  of  moral  in- 
struction must  be  divided  between  the  parent  and  the 
teacher;  but  much  the  larger  share  continues  to  fall 
upon  the  home  authorities,  of  course.  Such  obvious 
duties  of  the  schoolroom  as  obedience,  industry  in  study, 
punctuality  in  attendance,  and  ordinary  politeness,  even 
if  thoroughly  enforced,-  are  far  from  exhausting  the 
moral  range  of  the  life  at  home,  with  its  more  frequent 
and  varied  opportunities  for  the  display  of  good  or  bad 


MORALS  IN  THE  PUBLIC  SCHOOLS.  9 

character,  in  word  and  act.  But  though  the  father  and 
the  mother  cannot  properly  throw  the  whole  burden  of 
the  moral  training  of  their  children  upon  any  person  or 
persons  beyond  the  home  circle,  they  naturally  look  for 
a  vigorous  reinforcement  of  their  own  efforts  from  an 
institution  so  expressly  adapted  to  training  as  the  public 
school,  with  its  special  buildings,"  its  determined  hours, 
its  professional  teachers,  and  its  ample  apparatus  of 
instruction  and  discipline. 

"\  The  teacher  who  draws  an  artificial  line  in  the  child's 
lire,  dividing  intellectual  training  from  moral,  to  devote 
himself  to  the  first  and  throw  the  entire  burden  of  the 
second  upon  the  home,  commits  not  only  a  blunder,  but 
also  an  offence.  \  The  child  is  growing  as  a  moral  being 
in  school  hoars  as  well  as  out  of  them.  In  them  there 
are  some  special  advantages  for  effective  ethical  teach- 
ing which  the  home  does  not  possess.  The  teacher  and 
the  parent  are  even  more  natural  allies  in  this  direction 
than  in  the  field  of  purely  intellectual  effort.  \  Every 
public-school  teacher  is  bound,  then,  I  hold,  to  make 
the  school  hours  a  time  for  instruction  in  character,  so 
far  as  this  is  compatible  with  the  chief  object  of  im- 
parting the  elements  of  knowledge.'  But  this  does  not 
by  any  means  -necessarily  imply  that  we  shall  add  a 
new  branch  to  the  course  of  study,  which  is  often  too 
full  already  of  varied  subjects,  or  that  textbooks  of 
virtue  or  moral  theory  shall  be  put  into  the  hands  of 
children  in  order  that  they  may  learn  to  define  elabo- 
rately and  recite  by  rote  the  rules  and  distinctions  of  a 
formal  morality.  On  the  contrary,  I  can  imagine  few 
studies  more  dry,  repulsive,  and  ineffectual  in  reaching 
their  proposed  aim  than  such  a  study  of  morals  !  j  In 
the  highest  degree  it  is  true  of  instruction  in  this  art 
of  life  that  it  should  come  direct  from  the  teacher's 
lips  and  pure  from  the  teacher's  heart  and  example.  I 
am  not  a  believer  in  textbooks  of  morals  for  the  use  of 
children  in  public   schools.     But  it  would  be  a  great 


10  IN  TR  OD  UCTION. 

assumption  to  suppose  that  the  whole  great  army  of 
teachers,  as  a  rule,  are  already  entirely  competent  to 
give  familiar  talks  occasionally  on  points  of  good  con- 
duct, and  that  no  assistance  from  a  well-devised  hand- 
book of  practical  ethics,  especially  intended  for  their 
use,  could  be  of  value.  Manuals  of  the  art  of  teaching, 
in  general  and  in  particular,  are  multiplying  every  year. 
It  would  be  a  curious  exception  if  only  in  the  compara- 
tively untried  field  of  moral  instruction  the  teacher  were 
left  to  his  own  devices.  Precisely  the  opposite  method 
I  hold  to  be  adapted  to  the  actual  state  of  the  case  ; 
in  no  part  of  the  common-school  course  should  a  good 
manual  for  teachers  be  more  welcome  or  more  profitable 
than  just  here. 

The  present  book  is  an  earnest  attempt  to  perform 
what  seems  to  be  the  much-needed  service  of  clearing 
the  mind  of  the  common-school  teacher  as  to  the  nature 
and  limits  of  the  moral  training  which  may  advisably 
be  given  in  the  schoolroom.  The  younger  and  more 
inexperienced  instructors  may  find  here  some  useful 
hints  as  to  the  best  way  of  putting  things.  But  I  shall 
leave  it  to  the  older  and  experienced  teachers,  who  have 
realized  the  desirability  of  moral  training,  to  answer 
the  third  question,  ''  How  shall  morality  be  taught  in 
our  schools  ?  "  largely  in  their  OAvn  way.  The  science 
of  education  has  been  amply  and  thoroughly  illustrated 
of  late  years  in  books,  many  and  excellent,  for  the  guid- 
ance of  teachers.  The  fit  methods  to  pursue  in  moral 
education  are  essentially  the  same  as  those  laid  down  in 
these  numerous  manuals  and  treatises  on  intellectual 
development  in  the  schools.  There  is,  of  course,  no 
fixed  and  plain  line  between  the  two  disciplines.  Wri- 
ters on  psychology  and  the  principles  of  education  now- 
adays devote  no  small  part  of  their  space  to  topics  which 
are  common  to  both.  Their  frequent  remarks  on  the 
training  of  the  will,  on  the  formation  of  habit,  on  the 
influence  of  association,  and  similar  subjects  are  of  vita] 


MORALS  IN  THE  PUBLIC  SCHOOLS.  11 

importance  to  the  proper  metliod  of  instruction  in  prac- 
tical ethics.  From  my  own  short  experience  as  an  edu- 
cator, but  much  more  from  observation  and  reflection  on 
the  matter,  I  offer  to  teachers  the  following  suggestions 
for  what  they  are  worth,  as  to  manner  and  method  in 
moral  education. 

The  one  principle  to  keep  firmly  in  mind  is  to  avoid 
didacticism  ("preaching")  as  much  as  possible,  and 
to  hold  fast  to  actual  life  as  children  already  know  it, 
or  may  easily  be  led  to  comprehend  it.  Concrete  in- 
f  stances  of  right-doing  or  wrong-doing,  happening  in  the 
(Schoolroom  itself,  or  just  outside,  within  the  immediate 
knowledge  of  the  boys  and  girls,  afford  the  best  starting- 
point  for  talks  about  the  moral  points  involved.  It 
will  be  easy  to  bring  the  children's  minds,  through  a 
■  consideration  of  actual  examples,  to  recognize  in  some 
degree  the  general  principles  involved."  -The  same  cau- 
tion needs  to  be  urged  here  as  in  the  cale  of  other  gen- 
eral notions,  against  haste  and  consequent  disregard  of 
the  immaturity  of  the  childish  mind.  But  if  the  teacher 
will  shun  formality  and  generality,  and  keep  mainly  to 
the  particular  and  the  concrete,  he  will  find  that  few  sub- 
jects interest  children  more  than  these  questions  of  right 
and  wrong  in  common  conduct.  These  men-and-women- 
to-be  &nd  people  the  most  attractive  matter,  just  as  they 
will  find  them  later  in  life.  Man  is  not  only  the 
"proper,"  but  also  the  most  engaging  "study  of  man- 
kind," large  or  small.  Conduct  is  to  children,  who  have 
not  yet  entered  upon  the  great  activities  of  business, 
art,  or  science,  much  more  than  "  three  fourths  of  life," 
and  the  lines  of  it  on  which  they  are  beginners  will 
continue  unbroken  through  all  their  years.  Elaborate 
casuistry,  hair-splitting  about  imaginary  situations,  any- 
thing and  everj^thing  in  the  line  of  pure  ethical  theory, 
should  be  utterly  tabooed  in  the  schoolroom.  But  with 
these  precautions  observed,  and  under  the  guidance 
of  a  teacher  of  well-developed  moral  sense,  boys  and 


12  INTRODUCTION. 

girls  between  eight  and  fourteen  years  of  age  (in  the 
grammar  schools,  where  moral  education  has  its  most 
fruitful  field)  will  reason  about  points  of  ethical  prac- 
tice with  interest,  and  often  with  a  freshness  and  an 
acuteness  that  are  surprising.  If  this  be  not  so,  then 
these  children  in  school  differ  very  much  from  these 
same  children  out  of  school ! 

If  the  course  of  study  is,  anywhere,  so  full  or  crowded 
as  not  to  allow  time  for  the  occasional  talks  (one  or 
two  a  week)  about  conduct,  which  I  should  advise  as 
the  best  method,  then  that  course  should  be  shortened 
by  the  omission  of  some  branch  of  much  less  use- 
ful knowledge  sure  to  be  found  in  it.  I  would  avoid 
set  times  for  these  conversations  ;  in  them  question  and 
answer  should  play  a  large  part ;  the  more  easily  (if 
not  very  frequently)  the  teacher  "  drops  into  "  one  of 
them  for  a  few  vivacious  minutes,  the  better.  Some 
incident  of  the  schoolroom  life  that  has  just  occurred, 
or  some  matter  in  the  lesson  in  reading  or  history,  may 
well  interrupt  the  routine  of  the  ordinary  recitation,  as 
the  teacher  asks  the  opinions  of  the  class  or  of  the  school 
on  the  moral  point  in  question,  incites  them  to  think 
more  carefully  about  it,  and  indicates  the  conclusion  to 
which  long  experience  has  brought  the  world  of  man. 
The  school  itself  will,  naturally,  supply  the  starting- 
point  at  least  for  the  majority  of  these  ethical  talks,  for, 
like  every  other  social  institution,  it  has  its  moral  law 
which  must  be  observed  by  all  its  members  in  order  to 
attain  its  end.  The  plainly  visible  chief  function  of  the 
public  school  is  to  impart  the  elements  of  knowledge. 
To  this  end  there  must  be  full  obedience  to  the  natu- 
ral aiithority,  the  teacher  ;  the  prescribed  conditions  of 
quiet,  order,  and  studiousness  must  be  observed  by  the 
pupils.  Punctuality  in  attendance  and  readiness  for  all 
the  exercises ;  truthfulness  in  regard  to  absence  from 
school,  tardiness,  or  any  other  failure  to  comply  with 
the  regular  order  ;    honorable  conduct  with  respect  to 


MORALS  IN  THE  PUBLIC  SCHOOLS.  13 

methods  of  passing  examinations ;  polite  treatment  of 
the  other  scholars ;  attention  and  courtesy  to  the  teacher, 
—  such  are  some  of  the  moral  necessities  of  the  school- 
room to  be  met  by  the  scholars. 

The  pupils  have  no  duties  which  should  not  be  met 
by  an  equal  faithfulness  to  his  duties  on  the  part  of 
the  teacher,  who  should  not  be  there  teaching  unless 
interested  in  his  work,  qualified  for  it,  and  industrious 
in  improving  his  practice  of  it.  He  must  be  just  and 
impartial  in  his  treatment  of  the  scholars  ;  he  must, 
having  the  authority,  exhibit  the  virtues  of  a  ruler. 
Teaching  politeness  and  honor,  the  instructor  should 
be  an  honorable  gentleman.  He  has  some  advantages 
over  the  parents  at  home  in  respect  to  the  moral  disci- 
pline demanded  by  the  schoolroom.  Indulgence  or  par- 
tiality for  any  individual  child  is  out  of  place,  of  course, 
whereas  at  home  it  may  sometimes  be  very  natural ; 
the  aim  of  the  school  is  more  limited  and  definite  than 
that  of  the  home;  the  hours  are  set,  the  labors  are 
])lainly  marked  out,  and  to  accomplish  them  success- 
fully something  like  military  discipline  is  necessary. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  teacher  has  no  direct  influence 
over  the  pupil  except  in  the  school  hours,  and  his  ear- 
nest efforts  may  be  rendered  almost  useless  by  the  in- 
difference, or  the  hostility  even,  of  parents.  But  none 
the  less  must  he  strive  to  connect  the  morality  of  the 
schoolroom,  which  he  can  enforce,  with  the  morality 
of  life  outside,  as  resting  on  the  same  general  principles 
of  reason.  While  the  first  rudiments  of  common  sense 
will  keep  him  from  speaking  of  any  vice,  such  as  lying 
or  stealing  or  drunkenness,  in  such  a  way  as  to  proclaim 
his  knowledge  that  it  prevails  in  any  scholar's  home, 
he  is  still  free  to  enlarge  upon  the  manifold  evil  con- 
sequences of  it.  Thus  his  word  may  help  someAvhat  to 
keep  children  pure  in  the  midst  of  a  bad  home  atmos- 
phere, which  he  is  otherwise  powerless  to  change. 

"  Word,"  —  this  will  usually  be  easy  for  the  teacher 


14  INTR  OD  UCTION. 

to  give  in  attempting  moral  education ;  but  nowhere 
else  does  word  amount  to  so  little  compared  with  ex- 
ample. If  the  word  is  not  reinforced  by  the  example, 
its  influence  will  be  small.  The  demand  upon  the  pa- 
tience and  good  nature  of  the  public-school  teacher  is 
great,  and  by  the  vast  majority  the  call  is  well  met ; 
but  one  good  result  of  teaching  practical  morals  may 
be  in  that  reaction  upon  the  teacher  himself  which  is 
seen  in  other  lines.  What  one  teaches  he  learns  more 
thoroughly  than  in  any  other  way.  So  in  respect  to 
morals  :  the  conscientious  teacher,  w^ho  cannot  fail  to 
apply  to  himself  and  his  own  conduct  the  precepts  of 
justice  and  kindness  which  he  instils  into  his  pupils' 
minds,  may  be  almost  as  much  benefited  by  the  study 
as  the  scholar.  John  Milton  thought  that  ''he  who 
would  not  be  frustrate  of  his  hope  to  write  well  here- 
after in  laudable  things  ought  himself  to  be  a  true 
poem  ;  that  is,  a  composition  and  pattern  of  the  honor- 
ablest  things ;  not  presuming  to  sing  high  praises  of 
heroic  men  or  famous  cities  unless  he  have  in  himself 
the  experience  and  the  practice  of  all  that  which  is 
praiseworthy."  As  Milton  would  have  the  poet  him- 
self a  poem,  so  the  excellent  teacher  of  morals  will  be 
morality  incarnate  ;  showing  forth  its  gospel  as  well  as 
its  law  in  the  daily  exhibition  of  sw^eetness  and  light, 
he  will  be  "  not  virtuous,  but  virtue  "  itself !  How  diffi- 
cult, but  how  necessary,  is  such  a  preparation  of  the 
heart  and  will  in  the  well-rounded  instructor  of  chil- 
dren or  of  men  one  does  not  need  to  reiterate  to  the 
teacher  who  has  found  his  true  vocation, 

A  single  caution  may  be  needed  here  by  the  most  con- 
scientious. Children  take  example  from  the  whole  man 
or  woman  instructing  them.  A  severe  conception  of  his, 
duty  may  make  a  teacher  sometimes  harsh,  where  a 
little  measure  of  good  nature  would  be  more  effective 
in  correcting  the  offence.  ''  You  have  not  fulfilled  every 
duty  until  you  have  fulfilled  the  duty  of  being  pleas- 


MORALS  IN  THE  PUBLIC  SCHOOLS.  15 

ant "  is  a  good  saying  to  remember  in  the  schoolroom. 
Strength  of  mind  and  fulness  of  knowledge  have  a 
moral  bearing  on  the  teacher's  character ;  good  taste, 
refinement,  a  sense  of  beauty,  —  these  too  should  be  cul- 
tivated in  himself  by  the  instructor  of  youth.  They 
will  fit  him  to  be  a  better  and  more  persuasive  moral 
guide  ;  they  will  not  only  favorably  affect  his  own  char- 
acter, but  they  will  also  diffuse  a  moral  influence,  not 
the  less  powerful  beciiuse  of  his  unconsciousness  of  its 
existence. 

Having  answered  the  three  questions  as  to  the  possi- 
bility, tlie  desirabilit}-,  and  the  general  method  of  moral 
instruction  in  schools,  I  need  add  but  a  few  paragraphs 
on  the  nature  of  this  manual  and  the  best  way  to  iise 
it.  It  is  intended  solely  for  the  teacher :  it  is  not  a 
catechism  for  the  scholar;  it  is'  not  a  book  from  which 
the  teacher  is  to  read  selections  to  the  school.  It  aims 
solely  to  be  a  help  to  instructors  of  children  in  prepar- 
ing short  talks  on  practical  morals.^  There  is,  to  my 
knowledge,  very  little  helpful  literature  in  this  special 
field ;  and  in  what  there  is  I  have  not  happened  to  find 
any  work  which  takes  the  line  I  have  chosen  as  the 
best  to  follow.  In  this  venture  at  making  a  properly 
scientific  handbook  of  practical  ethics  to  aid  the  teacher 
as  he  is  aided  by  manuals  on  the  teaching  of  geogra- 
phy, arithmetic,  and  other  studies,  I  have  not  crossed 
the  line  between  morality  and  religion.  But  every  one 
who  uses  this  manual  should  beware  of  supposing  that 
because  the  author  has  omitted  appeals  to  certain  great 
beliefs  and  sentiments  of  mankind,  he  is  therefore  a 
disbeliever  in  them  I  am  strongly  of  the  opinion  that 
the  line  followed  in  this  book  is,  substantially,  the  best 
to  take  ;  that  in  our  common  schools  it  is  well  to  begin 
and  to  end  as  I  have  done.     Parents  at  home,  preachers 

^  The  teacher  will  not,  for  this  reason,  think  the  style  of  these 
chapters  too  simple  ;  I  have  often  written  as  if  addressing  boys  and 
girls. 


16  INTRODUCTION. 

in  the  pulpit,  or  teachers  in  the  Sunday  school  will 
supplement  a  distinctively  scientific  teaching  of  morals 
with  a  more  religious  or  theological  view.  But  no  one 
can  properly  say  that  the  method  here  taken  is  either 
anti-religious  or  anti-tlieological.  Morality  is  here  viewed 
as  a  practical  art  which  has,  of  course,  a  Avorking  theory 
that  it  is  well  to  know ;  but  it  seems  unadvisable  to  ex- 
tend this  theory,  in  the  case  of  children  in  our  public 
schools,  by  bringing  in  considerations  which  are  dis- 
tinctively religious  or  theological.  Religion  may,  later 
in  life,  become  one  of  the  greatest  inspirations  to  good 
conduct,  and  a  rational  theology  may  supplement  a  prac- 
tical science  of  morals  most  happily.  Both,  however,  are 
here  simply  left  out  of  view  as  subjects  too  great  for  the 
common  school,  and  too  much  complicated  with  unset- 
tled controversies.  So,  likewise,  ethical  theory  has  been 
shunned,  in  order  to  make  clearer  and  easier  the  suffi.- 
ciently  difficult  task  of  the  teacher. 

When  the  teacher  who  takes  up  this  book  has  become 
well  enough  acquainted  with  it  to  sympathize  with  its 
spirit  and  appreciate  its  leading  ideas,  1x3  will  be  wise 
if  he  uses  it  for  the  purposes  of  the  schoolroom  in  an 
independent  fashion.  I  would  not  advise  a  consecutive 
series  of  talks  to  the  scholars,  following  the  order  of 
the  chapters.  This  order  is  based  upon  a  logical  con- 
ception, but  the  development  of  it  is  meant  for  the  in- 
structor. The  matter  may  well  be  left  to  the  judgment 
of  each  individual  teacher  to  decide,  according  as  he  is 
more  or  less  inclined  to  system.  But  any  striking  oc- 
casion in  school  life  fitted  for  driving  home  a  moral 
precept  ought  to  be  improved  at  once,  without  regard 
to  the  place  of  a  given  duty  in  a  handbook.  A  very 
free  use  of  this  volume  will  be  the  best  use,  so  long  as 
its  method  and  spirit  are  accepted  and  followed.  This 
method  is  to  hold  fast  to  the  concrete  and  the  actual ; 
this  sjiirit  is  cleaving  to  righteousness  as  the  great  mat- 
ter in  human  life. 


MORALS  IX   THE  PUBLIC  SCHOOLS.  17 

These  fifteen  short  chapters  begin  with  a  simple  ex- 
planation of  Life  under  Law,  showing  what  it  means  to 
live,  as  mankind  does,  in  a  law-abiding  Universe.  The 
special  significance  of  Moral  Law  and  Obedience  to  it 
is  the  next  subject.  Obedience  is  possible  mainly 
through  the  power  of  Self-Control,  which  must  be  fun- 
damental in  the  nature  of  any  moral  being.  Exercising 
this,  he  can  practice  Truthfulness,  Justice,  and  Kind- 
ness, not  as  instincts,  acting  more  or  less  fitfully,  but 
as  perpetual  forces,  working  steadily  from  within.  Af- 
ter pausing  to  consider  the  Great  Words  of  Morality, 
such  as  "  duty  "  and  "  conscience,"  we  pass  to  the  groups 
of  duties  implied  when  we  speak  of  Home,  Work,  Honor, 
and  Personal  Habits,  —  the  last  phrase  covering  "  du- 
ties to  one's  self,"  as  we  often  hear  them  called.  The 
obligations  to  our  country  of  Patriotism  and  Political 
Duty  could  not  be  omitted  here.  The  meaning  of  Char- 
acter and  of  Moral  Progress  is  next  considered,  and  we 
conclude  with  a  chapter  on  life  according  to  the  Golden 
Eule,  tlie  most  important  precei)t  of  practical  morals. 

In  the  text  which  forms  the  body  of  this  book,  the 
teacher,  as  has  been  said,  will  not  find  discussions  of 
the  origin  of  the  moral  sense,  the  nature  of  conscience, 
the  final  test  of  right,  and  other  similar  matters  which 
belong  to  the  psychology  or  the  metaphysic  of  ethics, 
not  to  practical  morality.  He  will  do  well  to  consult, 
according  to  his  interest,  the  books  on  ethics  which  are 
occupied  largely  with  these  matters  ;  he  will  probably 
gain  more  in  the  way  of  illustrations  from  actual  conduct 
found  in  such  works  than  in  any  lasting  satisfaction  of 
his  own  mind  as  to  the  perennial  problems  of  ethics. 
The  constant  appeal  in  the  schoolroom  should  be  to 
experience  which  has  fully  shown  the  consequence  of 
obedience  and  disobedience  to  the  simpler  moral  laws  of 
conduct  here  treated.  Especially,  whenever  it  is  prac- 
ticable, shoidd  the  law  in  question  be  traced  in  the 
experience  of  the  children  themselves,   in  what  they 


18  INTRODUCTION. 

have  seen,  heard,,  felt,  or  done,  at  home,  in  school,  or 
elsewhere. 

The  object  of  the  Notes  is  to  furnish  supplementary 
matter  to  the  text,  in  the  way  of  hints  for  the  develop- 
ment of  the  subject;  illustrations  from  biography  and 
history,  which  could  only  be  referred  to  here  ;  quo- 
tations, or  references  to  passages,  from  great  writers, 
particularly  the  poets  and  moralists,  bearing  upon  the 
point  of  conduct  in  question  ;  and  occasional  indications 
of  places  in  the  works  on  ethics  generally  accessible  in 
which  these  points  are  well  treated.  It  is  evident  tliat 
these  Xotes  might  be  extended  almost  indefinitely ; 
comparatively  few  are  given,  and  in  this  direction  es- 
pecially the  manual  will  need  revision.  The  skilful  in- 
structor, accustomed  to  teach  without  relying  upon  a 
book,  will  know  how  to  take  the  material  in  the  text 
and  the  notes,  work  it  over  in  his  own  mind,  and  give 
it  forth  in  a  form  suited  to  the  needs  of  the  schoolroom 
and  the  hour. 

One  more  suggestion  remains  :  the  songs  sung  in  the 
school  may  be  made  influential  in  bringing  home  a 
sound  moral  lesson  to  the  scholar's  mind.  Beyond  its 
general  refining  influence,  music  may  thus  become  ah 
agreeable  instrument  for  fixing  plain  truths  of  conduct 
deep  in  the  memory  and  the  heart.  The  songs  should 
not  be  made  exclusively  didactic,  but  after  a  short  talk 
on  truthfulness,  for  instance,  the  moral  could  hardly  be 
left  on  the  mind  more  felicitously  than  with  singing, 
"Be  the  matter  what  it  may,  Always  tell  the  truth !  " 

In  this  attempt  to  set  forth  the  laws  of  the  good  life 
—  which  is  therefore  the  best,  the  happiest,  the  most 
truly  successful  life  —  in  sxich  a  manner  as  to  aid  the 
great  cause  of  the  education  of  the  young,  I  have  used 
material  from  many  quarters.  A  careful  inquiry  has 
not  brought  to  notice  any  book,  however,  in  English, 
French,  or  German  constructed  on  the  lines  here  fol- 
lowed.    Books  of  ethical  philosophy  are  many  in  these 


K 


MORALS  IN   THE  PUBLIC  SCHOOLS.  19 

languages ;  but  handbooks  of  practical  morals  for  schools 
are  comparatively  very  few.  But  wherever  I  have  found 
anything  to  my  purpose  I  have  appropriated  it.  A  book 
of  this  kind,  as  a  German  author  has  well  said,  should 
be  a  collective  work  to  which  many  minds  have  contrib- 
uted; he  would  be  pleased  to  have  his  own  volume 
quoted  as  written  "  by  the  professors  and  schoolmasters 
of  Germany."  So,  in  offering  this  small  book  to  the  i)ub- 
lic-school  teachers  of  my  country,  to  make  of  it  what 
use  they  may,  I  am  careless  of  originality  or  plagiarism, 
but  I  earnestly  invite  such  suggestions  for  its  improve- 
ment as  shall  make  it  in  the  truest  sense  "  a  book  by 
the  teachers  of  America." 


NOTES. 


Moral  education  in  the  public  schools  is  one  of  the  "  ques- 
tions of  the  day  "  most  frequently  debated  in  the  press.  The 
Christian  Union  and  the  Independent  of  New  York,  Public  Opin- 
ion of  Washington,  and  the  Christian  Register  of  Boston,  have 
had  of  recent  years  many  noteworthy  expressions  of  opinion 
from  prominent  educators  on  the  subject.  Cardinal  Gibbons  has 
ably  stated  the  argument  against  secular  schools.  Particularly 
good  is  a  little  pamphlet  by  W.  T.  Harris,  the  United  States 
Commissioner  of  Education,  entitled  Morality  in  the  Schools:  it 
is  a  review  of  the  discussion  printed  in  the  Christian  Register, 
January  31,  1889.  Mistaken  methods  of  teaching  morals  with- 
out religion,  are  described,  and  a  better  way  indicated,  in  a  pa- 
per on  Ethics  in  the  Sunday  School,  by  W.  L.  Sheldon  of  St. 
Louis.  See  also  Prohlcms  in  American  Society,  by  J.  H.  Crooker. 
Among  articles  in  the  periodicals  are  Religion  in  State  Educa- 
tion, by  J.  H.  Seelye,  Forum,  i.  427;  Training  in  Ethical  Science, 
by  H.  H.  Curtis,  Popular  Science  Monthly,  xxvii.  96;  Moral  and 
Industrial  Training,  by  G.  R.  Stetson,  Andover  Reviev;,  vi.  351; 
Religion,  Morals,  and  Schools,  by  M.  J.  Savage,  The  Arena,  i. 
503. 

The  Ethical  Record  of  Philadelphia  and  its  successor,  The  In- 
ternational Journal  of  Ethics,  have  frequently  considered   the 


20  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

place  of  morals  in  education,  and  the  best  methods  of  instruc- 
tion. Some  of  Professor  Felix  Adler's  valuable  lectures  on  moral 
training  have  been  printed  in  pamphlet  form. 

In  the  multitude  of  works  on  pedagogy,  which  have  more  or 
less  to  say  on  the  moral  nature,  and  the  wisest  ways  of  develop- 
ing it,  these  books  may  be  named  as  among  the  best:  Plato's 
Republic,  books  iii.  and  iv. ;  Richter's  Levana;  Herbert  Spencer's 
Education  ;  A.  Bain's  Education  as  a  Scienqe  ;  Kosenkranz's  Phi- 
losophy of  Education,  part  II.  chapters  xii.-xviii.;  G.  Compayr^'s 
Lectures  on  Teaching,  part  I.  chapters  ix.-xii.;  and  Psychologij; 
other  works  on  psychology  by  J.  M.  Baldwin,  J.  Dewey,  D.  J. 
Hill,  and  James  Sully  ;  The  Senses  and  the  Will,  by  W.  Preyer; 
T'he  Education  of  Man,  by  Froebel.  Hints  on  Home  Teaching,  by 
Edwin  Abbot,  D.  D. ;  School  Life,  a  series  of  lessons,  by  Mrs. 
F.  B.  Ames ;  and  Notes  of  Lessons  on  Moral  Subjects,  by  F.  Hack- 
wood  (T.  Nelson  &  Sons),  are  particularly  helpful. 

A  point  not  to  be  overlooked  by  the  teacher  is  the  use  of  pro- 
verbs ("  the  wisdom  of  many  in  the  wit  of  one  "),  which  will 
often  be  effective  in  fixing  a  moral  truth  in  the  child's  mind. 
Such  a  book  as  Bartlett's  Familiar  Quotations  will  supply  brief 
passages  of  higher  literary  merit,  bearing  on  points  of  common 
conduct.  The  reading  exercises,  especially  the  supplementary 
reading,  may  well  be  chosen  with  an  ethical  aim.  While  the 
school-room  itself  supplies  the  natural  basis  for  instruction  in 
morals,  by  precept  and  by  example,  much  moralizing  on  every 
little  incident  should  be  avoided.  The  chief  aim  of  the  school, 
after  all  is  said,  is  to  get  knowledge. 

The  biographies  of  Arnold  of  Rugby,  and  other  great  educa- 
tional reformers  (see  R.  H.  Quick's  work  with  this  title)  will  be 
useful.  Every  teacher  has,  in  a  sense,  to  be  a  re-former  of  char- 
acter, and  Coleridge's  lines  (page  iv.)  indicate  finely  the  chief 
virtues  such  a  reformer  must  himself  possess. 


THE   LAWS   OF   DAILY   CONDUCT. 


CHAPTER  I. 
LIFE  UNDER  LAW. 


1.  All  our  human  life  is  lived  under  Law.      At 

the  outset  let  us  be  clear  in  our  minds  as  to  just  what 
we  mean  by  this  comprehensive  statement.  We  are 
well  aware  that  in  all  free,  civilized  countries,  such  as 
our  own,  there  is  something  called  "  the  fundamental 
law,"  or  "  the  Constitution  "  of  the  country.  Thus  the 
United  States  Constitution  is  for  all  the  States.  More- 
over, whether  we  live  in  jNIassachusetts,  Ohio,  Califor- 
nia, Louisiana,  or  any  other  State  of  the  Union,  we 
live  under  a  State  Constitution,  too,  which  is  in  har- 
mony with  the  "  fundamental  law  "  of  the  whole  coun- 
try. Congress  and  the  State  legislatures  pass  laws  to 
adapt  the  provisions  of  the  Constitutions  to  the  circum- 
stances and  needs  of  our  own  time.  Many  large  vol- 
umes contain  these  laws,  which  do  not  promise  to  re- 
Avard  any  one  for  doing  well,  but  declare  punishments 
for  persons  who  do  not  act  in  conformity  with  what 
they  prescribe.  Policemen,  constables,  or  sheriffs  ar- 
rest men  or  women  who  are  supposed  to  be  "  breaking 
the  law  "  of  the  town  or  city  or  State  or  Nation,  and 
they  are  confined  in  jails  or  prisons  or  kept  on  bail, 
until  they  are  tried  and  found  to  be  innocent  or  guilty 
by  the  courts.  Judges  are  appointed  to  preside  over 
these   courts,    at   the   public   expense,    and   juries    are 


22  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

chosen  to  decide  whether  the  accused  person  has  actu- 
ally broken  the  law  or  not.  There  is  a  special  class  of 
persons,  lawyers,  who  devote  themselves  to  studying 
and  practising  law ;  they  go  into  court  and  argue  in 
behalf  of  one  side  or  the  other  in  a  suit. 

Now,  when  we  say  that  the  jury  has  convicted  a  per- 
son (found  him  guilty)  of  breaking  the  lav/,  what  do 
Ave  mean  ?  We  do  not  intend  to  say  that  the  law  is 
something  which  can  be  broken  as  a  pane  of  glass  is 
broken  by  throwing  a  stone  through  it.  We  get  a  new 
pane  of  glass  set  in  such  a  case,  because  the  old  one  is 
no  longer  good  for  our  jjurj^ose,  to  keep  out  the  wind 
and  the  rain.  But  when  a  man  breaks  the  law  against 
taking  human  life  by  committing  a  murder,  we  do  not 
have  to  pass  a  new  law.  The  law  which  the  murderer 
disobeys  is  the  expression  in  words  of  the  will  and  pur- 
pose of  the  people  of  this  State  that  no  person  shall 
take  the  life  of  another  at  his  own  pleasure  merely.  If 
one  man  kills  another,  not  in  self-defence,  he  is  a  law- 
breaker in  this  sense,  that  he  disobeys  the  expres- 
sion of  the  will  of  the  people.  By  the  methods  they 
have  established  for  such  cases,  they  proceed  to  enforce 
the  law  against  him,  i.  e.,  to  put  it  into  effect  by  mak- 
ing him  suffer  certain  consequences  of  his  bad  deed  as 
a  penalty. 

This  punishment  was  laid  down  in  the  law  before 
the  murder  Avas  committed,  and  it  was  intended  to  be 
so  severe  as  to  prevent  any  person  from  killing  a  hu- 
man being.  But  if,  for  any  reason,  a  man  or  woman 
has  actually  been  killed  by  another,  then  we  say,  "  The 
law  must  be  enforced ;  and  the  murderer  must  iose  his 
life,"  because  this  is  the  punishment  laid  down  in  the 
law  on  purpose  to  keep  people's  lives  safe  generally. 
If  the  murderer  is  hanged  (or  imprisoned  for  life,  in- 
stead, under  certain  circumstances)  then  the  law  against 
murder  has  been  '*  enforced,"  and  we  might  well  say  that 
the  law  has  broken  the  murderer.     He  acted  contrary 


LIFE  UNDER  LAW.  23 

to  the  law  ;  but  he  was  afterwards  punished  according 
to  the  law.  He  disobeyed  ;  but  he  had  to  take  the  con- 
sequences which  the  law  threatened  against  disobedi- 
ence. So  with  respect  to  offences  of  less  importance 
than  the  taking  of  a  human  life  :  if  a  man  breaks  into 
another  man's  house  at  night  and  carries  away  some  of 
that  man's  property,  or  if  he  steals  something  out  of  a 
dry-goods  store  in  broad  daylight,  he  is  sent  to  jail,  if 
it  is  proved  that  he  did  the  act,  and  he  is  kept  in  prison 
as  long  as  the  law  has  determined  for  such  cases. 

This,  then,  is  what  we  mean  by  '^  breaking "  and 
"  enforcing "  the  statute  law  of  the  Commonwealth  in 
which  we  live.  Tlie  great  majority  of  the  people  living 
in  the  State  believe  that  their  lives  and  their  property 
will  not  be  safe  unless  laws  prescribing  punishments 
for  certain  bad  actions  are  passed  and  enforced.  So 
they  choose  legislators  who  make  these  laws,  and  pay 
judges  and  jailers  to  carry  them  out  whenever  any  evil- 
minded  person  disobeys  them.  In  all  civilized  coun- 
tries human  beings  live  under  law  in  this  sense,  and  we 
say  that  "  a  government  of  laws,  not  of  men  "  is  right, 
meaning  that  the  same  rule  should  be  applied  to  all 
alike  who  commit  a  crime,  and  that  no  man  should 
have  the  power  to  suspend  or  set  aside  the  laAV  so  that 
a  guilty  person  may  escape  the  punishment  he  has  de- 
served. 

But  this  is  only  one  meaning  of  "  living  under  law." 
The  laws  of  which  we  have  been  speaking  were  made 
by  men,  and  they  are  changed  from  time  to  time,  as 
men's  ideas  alter.  But  when  we  say  "  a  law  of  na- 
ture," we  are  using  the  word  law  to  mean  something 
very  different,  something  which  men  did  not  make 
and  cannot  alter.  It  is  a  law  of  nature,  for  instance, 
that  the  tides  shall  rise  and  fall  twice  in  every  twenty- 
four  hours  :  it  is  a  law  of  nature  that  the  roots  of  an 
apple-tree  shall  spread  out  in  the  ground  and  that  it 
shall  leaf  and  blossom  and  bear  fruit  in  the  upper  air 


24  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

and  sunshine.  It  is  a  law  of  nature  that  water  shall  i-un 
down  hill,  not  up  hill.  We  should  only  make  ourselves 
ridiculous  if  we  passed  laws  in  our  legislatures  that  the 
tide  should  go  out  and  come  in  only  once  in  the  tAventy- 
four  hours  ;  that  apples  should  grow  in  the  ground  like 
potatoes,  and  that  rivers  should  run  over  hills  instead 
of  going  around  them.  jSTo  law  of  nature  can  be  set 
aside  by  laws  that  man  makes.  We  may  often  be  mis- 
taken as  to  what  the  actual  laws  of  nature  are  :  we  have 
to  discover  them  by  experience,  and  reasoning  on  our 
experience,  of  the  facts  of  nature.  But  when  we  have 
once  found  a  real  law  like  that  of  gravitation,  the 
widest-reaching  of  all  laws  of  nature,  we  should  never 
think  that  we  can  make  it  of  no  effect  by  saying  so,  or 
voting  so. 

A  "  law  of  natiu-e  "  is  our  expression  of  the  fact  that 
natural  forces  act  in  certain  ways.  The  uniformity 
of  natiure  means  that  we  find  in  all  our  experience 
that  these  ways  do  not  change  without  a  cause.  Under 
the  same  conditions  the  natural  forces  —  gravitation, 
heat,  light,  and  electricity,  for  instance  —  always  act 
in  the  same  manner  and  produce  the  same  effects.  Just 
as  we  live  together  in  towns  and  cities  and  states,  feel- 
ing safe  as  to  our  persons  and  property  so  far  as  other 
persons  are  concerned,  because  of  the  human  laws  that 
have  been  made  to  protect  us  against  attack  by  evil- 
doers, so  we  have  a  very  much  greater  confidence  in  the 
laws  of  nature  which  man  did  not  make  and  cannot 
alter.  We  feel  perfectly  sure  that  the  force  of  gravita- 
tion will  hold  our  houses  down  to  the  ground  next  year 
as  well  as  this  year ;  so  we  build  them  to  last  for  years, 
and  we  live  in  them  in  entire  security.  We  are  very  con- 
fident that  day  will  succeed  night  every  evening  that  we 
lie  down  to  sleep :  we  have  no  fear  that  harvest  will  not 
follow  upon  seed-time.  Gravitation,  and  the  revolution 
of  the  earth  on  its  axis,  and  the  growth  of  plants  from 
seeds  are  all  parts  of  the  great  uniformity  of  nature. 


LIFE  UNDER  LAW.  25 

With  respect  to  these  laws  of  nature,  we  may  say  even 
more  strongly  than  we  could  say  it  of  the  wisest  laws 
of  man's  making,  "  They  cannot  be  broken  :  thei/  break 
the  jiersons  who  dlsohei/  them.''  If  a  little  child  puts  its 
hand  on  a  hot  stove,  its  hand  will  be  burned  :  if  a  boy 
who  cannot  swim  goes  alone  into  deep  water,  out  of  the 
reach  of  help,  he  will  be  drowned.  It  is  the  natxire  of 
fire  and  hot  things  to  burn  human  flesh :  it  is  the  na- 
ture of  water  to  cause  the  death  of  a  perscyi  who  gets 
under  it  so  that  he  cannot  keep  on  breathing.  The 
judges  and  the  juries  sometimes  let  a  person  go  free  of 
punishment  if  he  makes  it  seem  probable  that  he  did 
not  intend  to  break  the  law  printed  in  the  statute-book ; 
or  they  impose  a  lighter  punishment  than  they  would 
in  a  case  where  they  were  sure  that  the  person  diso- 
beyed the  laAv  knowingly.  But  what  we  call  the  "  laws 
of  nature  "  were  not  made  by  human  beings ;  so  we  can- 
not ask  our  fellow-men  to  change  them  or  alter  the  pen- 
alties because  we  did  not  know  all  about  them  or  intend 
to  violate  them.  The  man  who  handles  a  wire  charged 
with  electricity  will  receive  a  shock  just  the  same, 
whether  he  knew  anything  about  the  risk  or  did  not. 
It  is  our  business  to  learn  the  laws  of  nature  and  to  act 
in  accordance  with  them. 

These  laws  are  very  many  in  number,  and  we  are 
constantly  learning  more  and  more  about  them  :  the 
more  we  learn,  the  more  sure  we  become  of  the  uni- 
formity of  nature.  This  truth  ii  the  foundation  of 
science  and  the  reason  for  our  daily  confidence  in  the 
future.  '  If  we  believe  that  hereafter  the  same  causes 
will  produce  the  same  effects  as  now,  under  the  same 
conditions,  we  can  plan  our  lives  with  a  firm  trust  that 
we  are  building  on  a  sure  foundation.  This  is  the  rea- 
son why  we  are  continually  inquiring  into  nature  and 
its  laws  ;  Ave  study  physics  and  chemistry  and  botany 
and  physiology,  and  all  the  other  "  natural  sciences,"  as 
we  call  them,  in  order  first  to  know,  and  then  to  act  in 


26  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

accordance  with  our  knowledge.  We  study  the  facts  of 
natural  things  and  forces  in  order  to  find  the  laws  of 
their  existence  and  their  operation  and  in  order  to  make 
our  own  actions  conform  to  the  nature  of  things. 
We  wish  to  make  use  of  the  forces  of  nature,  such  as 
heat  and  electricity,  that  they  may  serve  our  conve- 
nience. After  we  have  found  how  tliese  forces  act,  what 
the  laws  of  them  are,  we  have  no  choice  about  obeying 
or  disobeying,  and  taking  the  consequences  or  not.  We 
must  take  the  consequences,  if  we  act  in  one  way 
or  another,  which  "  naturally  "  follow  from  that  action. 
A  statement  of  all  the  "  laws  "  of  any  thing  in  nature 
would  be  a  complete  expression  in  words  of  the  nature 
of  that  thing  :  so  every  thing  or  being  is  acting  in 
accordance  with  law  when  it  is  acting  according  to  its 
nature.  We  cannot  reasonably  expect  that  things  Avill 
act  contrary  to  their  nature.  We  never  find  rocks,  for 
example,  putting  out  Avoody  fibres  and  rooting  them- 
selves in  the  soil.  We  do  not  expect  ever  to  see  oak 
trees  walking  up  and  down  the  street,  or  animals  stand- 
ing on  their  heads  to  eat  their  food. 

Every  law  of  nature  has  an  interest  and  a  value  for 
mankind,  if  purely  as  a  matter  of  knowledge.  But 
among  all  the  sciences,  the  most  interesting  to  man  and 
woman  are  those  which  declare  the  facts  and  laws  of 
our  own  human  nature.  We  are  living  beings,  and  so  we 
must  act  according  to  the  laws  of  life  ;  biology  is  the 
name  we  give  to  the  science  that  tells  us  of  the  facts 
and  laws  of  life  in  general,  whether  in  plants  or  in  ani- 
mals. We  are  animals,  and  we  call  by  the  name  of 
physiology  the  science  that  informs  us  about  the  facts 
and  laws  of  animal  life,  whether  in  dogs  or  horses,  or 
any  other  of  the  "  lower  animals,"  or  in  mankind. 

As  we  study  this  animal  life  we  find,  as  we  get  nearer 
and  nearer  in  the  scale  to  human  beings,  that  there  is 
more  and  more  of  that  wonderful  life  which  we  call  the 
life  of  viind.    So  we  have  a  science  of  mental  physiology 


LIFE  UNDER  LAW.  27 

which  is  mainly  made  up  of  what  men  have  found  out 
about  the  organs  and  functions  of  the  human  mind  — 
the  brain  and  nerves  which  we  can  see,  and  the  feeling 
and  thinking  and  willing  which  we  are  conscious  of  iu 
ourselves,  but  which  no  one  can  see.  We  can  only 
infer  that  others  are  feeling  or  thinking  or  willing  by 
the  signs  which  they  make,  in  expression  or  speech  or 
action. 

The  fact  that  men  are  especially  thinking  animals 
Avith  minds,  is  the  reason  why  we  have  many  other  sci- 
ences than  mental  physiology,  which  has  to  do  only  with 
those  organs  of  the  mind  which  it  is  possible  to  see 
in  a  human  being,  the  brain  and  the  nervous  system. 
Psycholofjy  is  the  name  we  give  ('■'  knowledge  of  the  mind 
or  soul ")  to  the  science,  of  the  human  mind  in  general. 
But  this  is  a  very  great  subject  in  itself :  so  we  divide 
it  into  branches,  and  give  each  one  of  these  a  name. 
There  is  the  science  of  logic,  for  example,  which  brings 
together  the  facts  about  the  ivays  in  which  men  reason ; 
the  science  of  economics,  which  relates  how  they  get 
wealth,  and  consume  or  distribute  it ;  the  science  of 
politics,  which  expounds  tli>e  methods  in  Avhich  men  have 
come  together  under  various  forms  of  government ;  and 
the  science  of  history,  which  shows  us  what  mankind 
has  done  in  all  ages  and  countries  where  any  record 
has  been  preserved  of  its  doings. 

All  these  mental  sciences  show  certain  facts  of  our 
nature  as  human  beings,  and  sift  them  so  as  to  discover 
their  laws.  When  these  laws  are  once  actually  found, 
we  have  no  choice  about  obeying  them  and  suffering  a 
penalty  or  not.  We  must  obey  them  if  Ave  would  pros- 
per mentally.  So  doing,  we  live  in  accordance  with  our 
nature  as  intellectual  beings :  but  if  we  disobey  these 
laws,  as  to  a  limited  extent  we  may  and  can,  Ave  must 
take  the  natural  consequences.  If.  for  instance,  Ave  rea- 
son contrary  to  the  laws  of  logic,  which  are  simply  state- 
ments of  the  Avay  in  Avhich  Ave  viast  reason  to  arrive  at 


28  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

correct  conclusions,  we  come  to  a  wrong  result.  We 
cannot  reason  or  fail  to  reason,  just  as  we  please,  and 
still  have  a  right  to  demand  that  we  arrive  at  the  truth 
in  both  cases  alike.  We  cannot  act  contrary  to  the  ways 
in  which  the  science  of  economics  shows  that  men  ac- 
quire property,  and  then  rationally  complain  that  we 
are  not  well-off  as  to  property.  There  are  laws  of  logic 
and  laws  of  economics  which  are  just  as  sure  and  just 
as  binding  as  the  laws  of  physics  or  chemistry.  They 
are,  indeed,  often  harder  to  discover,  as  human  nature 
is  very  complex,  and  we  are  subject  to  so  many  laws 
that  we  are  more  apt  to  make  mistakes  about  them  than 
about  rocks  and  plants  and  the  lower  animals.  But 
whether  we  know  the  law  or  do  not  know  it,  it  is  still 
in  force.  The  one  wise  course  for  us  to  follow  is  to  dis- 
cover the  law,  if  possible,  and  then  conform  our  action 
to  it.  This  is  not  a  world  in  Avhich  we  can  "  do  as  we 
please,"  and  prosper.  On  the  contrary,  as  a  very  wise 
man  has  said,  "  Only  law  can  give  us  freedom ; "  we 
must  obey  the  laws  of  our  own  human  nature  and  of  all 
nature,  if  we  would  have  true  liberty  and  happiness. 

Most  of  all  is  what  we  have  been  saying  true  of  the 
science  of  ethics  or  morals  (the  two  words  mean  the 
same  thing,  one  being  derived  from  the  Greek,  the 
other  from  the  Latin  language).  Ethics  is  the  sci- 
ence of  human  conduct  in  personal  relations.  It 
tells  us  of  the  facts  of  human  life  which  concern  human 
beings,  not  in  respect  to  reasoning  (logic)  for  example, 
not  in  respect  to  the  way  to  make  and  spend  money 
(economics),  not  in  respect  to  setting  up  a  government 
that  Avill  last  (politics),  but  in  respect  to  the  common 
conduct  of  men  toward  each  other  in  the  relations  of 
character.  Ethics,  or  morals,  is  a  more  difficidt  science 
to  (Jefrne  than  the  others  which  we  have  been  naming, 
so  easy  is  it  for  almost  any  human  action  to  take  on  a 
moral  bearing,  /.  e.,  to  affect  the  welfare  of  other  per- 
sons than  the  doer  of  the  act,  or  to  influence  his  own 


LIFE   UN  BEE  LAW.  29 

ethical  life.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  vast  majority 
of  acts  and  words  and  feelings  which  may  be  called 
moral  or  immoral  are  of  the  commonest,  and  are  con- 
stantly happening  every  day. 

We  live  in  society :  not  one  of  us  can  live  entirely 
apart,  as  an  isolated  individual.  Human  society  is  just 
as  much  a  fact  as  any  single  person  is  a  fact.  Men, 
we  say,  are  social  beings.  Their  nature  marks  them, 
out  as  intended  to  live  together,  members  of  a  family, 
of  a  neighborhood,  of  a  town,  of  a  nation,  and  of  the 
great  world  of  human  beings.  Ethics  is  not,  of  course, 
the  only  science  of  human  action  in  society,  for  men 
in  order  to  carry  on  trade  or  establish  a  government, 
for  instance,  must  be  living  in  communities,  and  so 
economics  and  politics  are  social  sciences  too ;  but  eth- 
ics is  preeminently  the  most  fundamental  and  impor- 
tant science  of  human  life  together.  The  art  of 
morals  is  by  far  the  most  interesting  and  constant  of 
all  arts  to  universal  mankind.  We  are  all  the  time  liv- 
ing in  social  relations ;  society  of  some  kind  is  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  human  welfare.  The  science  and  the' 
art  which  are  concerned  with  the  personal  relations  of 
the  members  of  society  to  each  other  must  thus  be  of 
supreme  interest.  Xo  questions  are  more  common  than 
questions  of  moral  goodness  or  badness  ;  no  words  are 
more  often  employed  than  "  right "  and  "  wrong ;  " 
nothing  is  more  thought  of  than  the  personal  relations 
into  which  moral  qualities  may  at  any  time  enter ; 
nothing  is  of  more  consequence  to  the  very  existence  of 
human  society  than  virtue,  or  the  moral  life. 

It  would  be  a  very  strange  exception  to  all  the  rest 
of  our  life  if  these  personal  relations  were  not  subject 
to  law  like  other  relations.  Moral  law,  in  the  family, 
in  the  neighborhood,  in  the  political  organizations  of 
men,  is,  in  fact,  the  earliest  of  all  laws  to  force  itself 
upon  the  attention  of  men.  Unless  the  social  law  is  in 
large  degree  obeyed,  the  family  would  not  endure,  the 


30  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

State  would  perish,  men  would  fly  apart  from  one 
another  and  live  in  solitude,  and  civilization  would  thus 
become  impossible.  So  important  to  the  very  existence 
of  social  life  is  the  moral  life,  that  we  find  the  earliest 
codes  of  law  were  largely  collections  of  moral  precepts. 
At  once,  on  reflection,  we  see  how  reasonable  this  is. 
The  moral  law  is  the  law  which  expresses  the  nature  of 
society ;  just  as  the  single  human  being  must  obey  the 
laws  of  his  own  nature  to  some  degree,  even  to  live,  so 
a  society,  a  larger  or  smaller  collection  of  human  beings 
must  obey  the  moral  law,  however  imperfectly,  in  order 
even  to  exist.  It  may  have  been  a  very  long  time  before 
books  were  written  on  moral  science,  but  from  the  ear- 
liest days  of  human  life  on  this  earth  there  must  have 
been  some  practical  recognition  of  the  moral  law,  for 
otherwise  human  society  would  have  been  impossible. 
To  put  this  truth  in  another  form,  we  might  say  that 
human  nature  has  always  been  true  to  itself  and  that 
man  has  always  acted  out  his  own  nature. 

Since  we  can  reason  about  an  art  and  imagine  it  car- 
ried to  a  perfection  which  only  few  persons,  if  any, 
have  ever  attained,  we  may  conceive  a  perfect  morality, 
according  to  certain  principles,  which  few  individuals 
have  practised  thoroughly  at  any  time.  There  is  an 
ideal  excellence  which  may  l)e  imagined  in  every 
direction  of  human  effort.  jSTowhere  else,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  has  the  ideal  been  earlier  conceived  or  more 
constantly  held  up  to  mankind  than  in  this  very  sphere 
of  conduct,  however  rarely  it  has  been  realized.  But 
as  the  moral  law  is  the  very  law  of  life  of  human  so- 
ciety, it  has  always  been  recognized  and  obeyed  in  some 
degree. 

Mankind  makes  progress  in  morality,  as  in  other 
arts  of  life,  by  taking  heed  to  its  ways.  So  strong  is  the 
force,  however,  in  most  human  beings  that  makes  tliem 
think  too  much  of  individual  happiness  and  too  little  .of 
the  social  welfare,  that  moral  progress  toward  the  higher 


LIFE  UXDER  LAW.  31 

levels  of  conduct  is  necessarily  slow.  But  we  are  able 
to-day  to  see  at  least  that  the  moral  law  is  inscribed  in 
the  nature  of  man,  that  its  facts  are  a  part  of  the  facts 
of  human  nature,  and  that  obedience  to  it  is  in  the  line 
of  the  true  development  of  human  nature.  We  live 
under  moral  law  as  we  live  under  physical  law,  under 
chemical  law,  under  physiological  law.  We  cannot 
escape  from  it,  except  by  leaving  human  society,  for  it 
is  of  the  very  nature  of  that  society.  We  find  our  wel- 
fare in  obedience  to  it;  we  suffer  if  we  disobey  it, 
knowingly  or  unknowingly.  Owing  to  the  complexity 
of  many  social  relations  we  cannot  be  so  exact  in  pre- 
dicting the  consequences  of  immorality  as  of  disobe- 
dience to  the  laws  of  health,  but  we  may  be  just  as  con- 
fident, despite  all  apparent  exceptions,  that  there  is  a 
moral  law  and  that  it  is  binding  on  all  human  beings, 
as  we  are  that  there  are  laws  for  the  body,  which  must 
be  observed  if  one  would  have  good  health.  The  first 
thing  for  a  rational  human  being  here  to  do  is  to 
acknowledge  tliat  he  lives  in  every  time,  place,  and 
condition,  under  law,  and.  most  of  all,  tmder  the 
moral  law  of  universal  human  nature,  to  which  he 
owes  obedience.  What  this  obedience  implies  we  will 
consider  in  the  next  chapter. 


NOTES. 


The  teacher  will  do  well  to  dwell  upon  the  great  couceptiona 
of  modern  thought,  the  universe  governed  by  one  law,  the  uni- 
formity of  nature,  and  the  inclusion  of  human  life  under  law. 
He  will  be  aided  himself  by  such  books  as  J.  S.  Mill's  Logic,  The 
Principles  of  Science,  by  W.  S.  Jevons,  John  Fiske's  Cosmic  Phi- 
losophy, and  The  Reign  of  Law,  by  the  Duke  of  Argyll.  The 
popular  writings  of  Spencer,  Huxley,  Tyndall,  and  M.  J.  Savage, 
are  full  of  illustrations  of  scientific  conceptions.  The  following 
quotation  from  Professor  Huxley's  Science  Primer  ;  Introductory, 


32  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

explains  the  meaning  of  the  phrase  "  a  law  of  nature."  (The 
sight  of  the  Statutes  of  the  State  would  impress  the  child's  mind 
forcihly.) 

"  When  we  have  made  out,  by  careful  and  repeated  observa- 
tion, that  something  is  always  the  cause  of  a  certain  effect,  or 
that  certain  events  always  take  place  in  the  same  order,  we  speak 
of  the  truth  thus  discovered  as  a  law  of  nature.  ...  In  fact, 
everything  that  we  know  about  the  powers  and  properties  of 
natural  objects,  and  about  the  order  of  nature,  may  properly  be 
termed  a  law  of  nature.  ...  A  law  of  man  tells  what  v/e  may 
expect  society  will  do  under  certain  circumstances,  and  a  law  of 
nature  tells  us  what  we  may  expect  natural  objects  will  do  under 
certain  circumstances.  .  .  .  Natural  laws  are  not  commands,  but 
assertions  respecting  the  invariable  order  of  nature;  and  they 
remain  laws  only  so  long  as  they  can  be  shown  to  express  that 
order.  To  speak  of  the  violation  or  the  suspension  of  a  law  of 
nature  is  an  absurdity.  All  that  the  phrase  can  really  mean  is, 
that  under  certain  circumstances  the  assertion  contained  in  the 
law  is  not  true;  and  the  just  conclusion  is,  not  that  the  order  of 
natui-e  is  interrupted,  but  that  we  have  made  a  mistake  in  stat- 
ing that  order.  A  true  natural  law  is  a  universal  rule,  and  as 
such  admits  of  no  exception." 

So  Montesquieu  wrote:  "  Laws,  in  their  most  general  signifi- 
cation, are  the  necessary  relations  arising  from  the  nature  of 
things.     In  this  sense  all  beings  have  their  laws." 

Here  are  three  famous  sayings  by  lawyers  on  man-made 
law:  — 

"Reason  is  the  life  of  law;  nay,  the  common  law  itself  is  no- 
thing else  but  reason.  .  .  .  The  law,  which  is  perfection  of  rea- 
son."    (Sir  E.  Coke.) 

"  The  absolute  justice  of  the  State,  enlightened  by  the  perfect 
reason  of  the  State.     That  is  law."     (Rufus  Choate.) 

"  There  is  a  higher  law  than  the  Constitution."  (W.  H.  Sew- 
ard.) 

Three  other  great  minds  have  thus  spoken  of  the  relations  of 
law  and  liberty :  — 

"  That  liberty  which  alone  is  the  fruit  of  piety,  of  temperance, 
and  unadulterated  virtue."     (Milton.) 

"  Liberty  must  be  limited  in  order  to.  be  possessed."  (Burke.) 

"Liberty  exists  in  proportion  to  wholesome  restraint."  (Dan- 
iel Webster.) 


LIFE  UNDEE  LAW.  33 

As  a  popular  exposition  of  the  law  of  the  laud  under  which 
we  live,  E.  P.  Dole's  Talks  About  Law  is  an  excellent  manual. 
The  idea  of  justice  is  intimately  connected  with  the  political  life 
of  mankind,  and  the  teacher  will  naturally  be  led  into  the  study 
of  politics  as  a  science.  Bryce's  American  Commonioealth,  Wood- 
row  Wilson's  The  State  and  Fedetal  Governments  of  the  United 
States,  and  John  Fiske's  American  Political  Ideas,  are  three  good 
books  to  start  with  ;  see  the  notes  to  Chapter  XII.  of  this  vol- 
ume. 

"  AVhenever  a  separation  is  made  between  liberty  and  justice, 
//lieither  is,  in  my  opinion,  safe."  —  Edmund  Burke. 


CHAPTER   II. 
OBEDIENCE  TO  MORAL   LAW. 

How  do  we  obey  what  we  call  a  physical  or  natu- 
ral law,  and  Avliat  does  sucli  obedience  mean  ?  To 
answer  these  two  questions,  let  us  take  some  very  plain 
and  specific  instances.  Mankind  has  discovered,  as  the 
most  universal  of  all  laws  of  physical  nature,  the  law 
of  gravitation.  This  law  finds  expression  in  the  facts 
of  weight  and  of  falling  bodies.  Like  every  other  law 
of  general  nature,  this  is  fixed  and  determined.  We 
cannot  abolish  it  either  by  our  private  will,  or  by  a 
majority  vote  of  all  the  people  on  earth.  It  is  the  force 
of  gravitation,  indeed,  which  keeps  our  bodies  on  the 
earth !  "When  we  are  td  build  a  large  house  we  act  in 
accordance  with  our  knowledge  of  gravitation  by  dig- 
ging deep  into  the  ground  first,  and  then  laying  the 
strongest  part  of  the  building  below  the  surface,  as  a 
foundation  for  the  rest.  "We  do  not  think  because  we 
have  but  a  short  time  for  building,  or  because  we  have 
but  little  money  to  build  with,  or  simply  because  "  we 
happen  to  feel  like  it,"  that  it  will  be  well  enough  to  go 
on  fast  with  the  work,  and  run  up  a  high  building  with- 
out digging  deep  to  lay  a  strong  and  heavy  foundation 
wall.  The  power  of  gravitation  would  bring  the  house 
to  the  ground  of  its  OAvn  weight  if  we  did  so  ;  and  men 
would  call  us,  as  we  should  deserve  to  be  called, 
"  fools." 

We  cannot  know  just  how  much  weight  to  place  on  a 
certain  foundation  unless  we  have  studied  the  matter  in 
books,  or  have  had  much  practical  experience  ;  but,  if 
we  are  wise,  we  consult  those  who  do  know,  and  build 


OBEDIENCE  TO  MORAL  LAW.  35 

accordingly.  We  should  be  very  foolish,  indeed,  if  we 
had  such  an  idea  of  our  own  importance  as  to  think 
that  the  natural  force  would  be  modified,  or  fail  to  act 
as  it  usually  does,  because  it  is  toe  who  have  built  the 
house,  however  unwisely.  "  Shall  gravitation  cease  if 
you  go  by  ?  "  Avrites  the  poet.  No  !  it  will  not  cease  ; 
and  your  bad  building  will  fall,  and  perhaps  crush  you 
in  its  falling.  We  obey  tliis  natural  law  of  gravitation 
by  building  as  experienced  men  tell  us  we  must  build  if 
we  would  be  sure  that  our  house  stand  firm.  We  have 
no  choice  in  the  matter.  Stone  and  wood  and  iron,  and 
the  earth  on  which  they  rest,  will  act  according  to  the 
laws  of  their  own  natures,  and  they  will  pay  no  atten- 
tion to  our  fond  wishes,  our  caprices,  or  our  ignorance. 
They  are  all  under  universal  law ;  they  are  parts  of  one 
whole,  — the  universe  of  things,  —  and  they  act  accord- 
ingly, each  in  its  sphere.  AVe,  too,  must  so  act  wisely, 
with  a  knowledge  of  law  and  according  to  law,  if  we 
would  have  our  houses  stand.  People  cannot  build 
*'  just  as  they  please "  and  have  good  houses  that  will 
last.  Success  is  the  result  of  conformity  to  natural  law 
here;  it  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  the  house  endures 
and  is  strong.  Failure  and  disaster  are  the  result  of 
neglect  of  natural  law  or  conscious  disobedience,  —  the 
house  falls  flat. 

In  our  next  example  let  us  come  home  to  ourselves, 
as  human  beings  in  animal  bodies.  Human  physiology 
is  the  name  we  give  to  the  science  which  brings  together 
the  facts  which  men  have  discovered  by  long  and  care- 
ful study  of  the  human  body.  They  have  found  out 
"  the  laws  of  physiology."  These  are  the  expression, 
in  a  few  words  comparatively,  of  the  facts  as  to  the 
ways  in  which  the  bodily  forces  work  constantly  in  us. 
In  accordance  with  their  knowledge  of  the  working  of 
muscles  and  nerves  and  stomach  and  brain  and  all  the 
other  bodily  parts  and  organs,  the  doctors  tell  us  that 
we  must  do  so  and  so  if  we  would  preserve  the  bodily 


36  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

health,  which  is  so  indispensable  a  condition  of  human 
happiness  and  prosperity.  They  give  the  name  Hygiene 
to  the  set  of  practical  rules  and  directions  about  eat- 
ing and  drinking,  breathing,  sleeping,  work  and  play, 
and  other  functions,  which  are  founded  on  their  study 
of  physiology.  If  one  follows  these  rules  he  will  prob- 
ably enjoy  good  health ;  if  he  does  not  follow  them  he 
is  altogether  likely  to  be  sick  or  infirm.  Of  course,  this 
matter  of  good  health  is  very  much  more  complicated 
than  the  matter  of  l)uilding  a  house  so  that  it  will  stand 
firm.  There  are  very  many  more  things  to  be  taken  into 
consideration,  and  there  are,  ajjj^arently,  a  great  many 
exceptions  to  what  we  call  "  the  laws  of  health,"  because 
the  conditions  under  which  people  live  are  so  various. 

But  we  need  not  doubt,  first,  that  there  are  laws  of 
health ;  and  second,  that  "we  know  a  good  deal  about 
them,  amply  enough  to  show  us  what  our  bodily  habits, 
as  a  rule,  should  be.  One  law,  for  example,  is  that  our 
lungs  should  have  pure  air  to  breathe,  and  that  they  be- 
come weakened  or  diseased  if  we  breathe  the  same  air 
over  and  over.  Now  a  farmer  who  works  outdoors 
all  the  summer  day  may  sleep  in  a  small  and  poorly- 
ventilated  room,  and  may  not  appear  to  suffer  very 
much  from  bad  air.  He  does  not  suffer  so  much,  at 
any  rate,  as  a  man  would  who  has  to  work  all  day  in  a 
close  factory  or  machine  shop.  This  difference  does 
not  affect  the  fact  that  pure  air  is  always  best  for  the 
lungs  of  every  one,  or  the  truth  that  because  of  this 
fact  we  should  pay  attention  to  ventilation  in  our 
houses  and  workshops.  The  Black  Hole  of  Calcutta  is 
the  well-known  instance  of  the  absolute  necessity  of  a 
certain  amount  of  pure  air  merely  to  sustain  the  animal 
life.  But  the  laws  of  hygiene  in  regard  to  pure  air  are 
confirmed  in  our  common  experience  when  the  results 
of  inattention  are  less  tragical.  Bad  air  produ.ces  head- 
ache and  languor  and  a  low  tone  of  bodily  spirits.  Such 
effects  as  these  we  cannot  get  rid  of  simply  by  wishmg 


OBEDIENCE  TO  MORAL  LAW.  37 

them  away.  We  must  change  our  habits  with  regard 
to  the  ventilation  of  our  houses  and  work-places,  the 
amount  of  exercise  we  take  in  the  open  air,  and  like 
matters.  We  have  no  choice.  Our  personal  inclina- 
tions are  not  important  in  the  case.  We  must  have 
habits  that  are  in  conformity  with  our  knowledge  of  the 
need  of  good,  pure  air ;  otherwise,  we  shall  suffer  for 
our  nonconformity  or  disobedience. 

So  we  might  go  on  to  speak  of  the  rules  of  hygiene 
about  eating  and  drinking,  about  sleep,  and  the  work  of 
hand  or  head.  But  the  principle  is  one  and  the  same 
throughout.  Obedience  to  the  laws  of  hygiene  means 
conforming  our  actions  to  our  knowledge  of  these 
laws,  so  as  to  be  healthy  and,  so  far,  happy.  The  wise 
man  values  health  very  greatly.  He  knows  that  he  did 
not  make  the  rules  of  health  and  that  he  cannot  unmake 
them.  They  are  "  bottom  facts "  of  human  nature, 
which  all  mankind  cannot  destroy.  We  must,  then,  if 
we  wish  to  be  well  and  strong  and  have  a  good  animal 
life,  submit  ourselves  to  the  guidance  of  those  who 
know  the  laws  of  hygiene  and  learn  of  them  how  to  fix 
our  habits. 

We  have  always  to  bear  in  mind  that  we  shall  thus 
attain,  by  acting  in  accordance  with  the  laws  of  things, 
all  the  happiness  and  prosperity  which  things  can  give 
us.  Obedience  is  the  highway  to  welfare.  We  do  not 
give  up  our  own  whims  and  follies  and  submit  to  the 
rule  of  facts  and  law  merely  in  order  to  discipline  our- 
selves, without  regard  to  the  result.  Precisely  the  con- 
trary is  true.  The  happy,  prosperous  life  would  be 
impossible  without  conformity  to  the  laws  of  human 
nature  ;  therefore,  the  sooner  we  learn  what  these  laws 
are,  and  obey  them  in  our  practice,  the  larger  will  be 
the  measure  of  our  welfare.  The  service  of  natu.ral  law 
is  perfect  freedom ;  it  is  the  highest  liberty  we  can  con- 
ceive. Universal  nature  is  under  the  reign  of  law,  as 
Ulysses  says  in  "  Troilus  and  Cressida  "  :  — 


38  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

"  The  heavens  themselves,  the  planets  and  this  centre 
Observe  degree,  priority,  and  place, 
Insisture,  course,  proportion,  season,  form, 
OiS.ce  and  custom,  in  all  line  of  order." 

Now  what  do  we  mean  especially  by  moral  law  ? 
When  we  speak  these  two  words  we  imply  that  the 
actions,  the  whole  life,  of  human  beings  in  their  rela- 
tions to  one  another  are  under  Imv  ;  that  there  are  rules 
for  social  welfare  and  individual  happiness  which,  as 
men  have  discovered  by  long  experience,  are  entitled  to 
be  called  laws  of  human  conduct,  and  that  these  are 
not  dependent  on  any  person's  caprice  or  whim  or  fancy, 
but  are  the  consequence  of  the  great  facts  of  the  nature 
of  man  living  in  society.  We  are  not  free,  under  the 
reign  of  moral  law,  to  ''  do  as  we  please,"  any  more 
than  we  are  free  to  observe  the  law  of  gravitation  in 
house-building  or  the  laws  of  health,  or  not,  just  as  we 
feel  inclined.  We  must  obey,  or  we  shall  suffer  the 
penalty  for  disobedience. 

There  are  moral  laws  which  have  to  be  observed  in 
the  family,  in  the  school,  in  every  kind  of  association 
of  men  with  other  human  beings,  whether  it  be  common 
social  intercourse,  business  relationship,  or  the  life  of 
the  citizens  of  the  town,  state,  or  nation.  Men  come 
together  to  live  in  families  and  other  larger  groups 
through  a  fundamental  instinct ;  it  is  one  of  the 
strongest  laws  of  their  nature  that  they  should  so  do. 
Every  one  of  these  groups  has  its  conditions  of  life, 
which  must  be  observed  if  it  is  even  to  exist,  and  other 
conditions  also  which  must  be  observed  if  it  is  to  jn-os- 
per.  Hence  there  is  moral  law  for  the  family,  moral 
law  for  the  neighborhood,  moral  law  for  the  school,  for 
the  state,  for  all  kinds  of  associations.  It  is  of  the 
very  nature  of  all  these  bodies  of  men  that  their  mem- 
bers must  act  in  certain  ways  if  the  associations  are  to 
continue.  In  the  family,  for  example,  the  weak  and 
helpless  children  must  for  years  be  cared  for,  and  sup- 


OBEDIENCE  TO  MORAL  LAW.  39 

ported  by  their  parents.  As  children  do  not  of  them- 
selves know  how  to  act  wisely  and  live  happily  for  all 
concerned,  they  have  to  obey  their  parents,  who  will 
teach  them  to  act  in  such  ways  as  to  make  life  in  the 
family  what  it  should  be,  —  peaceful,  active,  and  happy. 
Fathers  and  mothers  in  their  place  should  act  according 
to  the  laws  of  the  moral  life  of  the  family,  by  support- 
ing and  training  and  loving  their  children.  Children 
have  their  part  to  do  in  returning  their  parents'  love 
and  rendering  a  cheerful  obedience  to  their  wishes.  As 
boys  and  girls  grow  up  they  will  understand  better 
and  better  the  reasons  why  they  are  obliged  to  do  thus 
and  so.  But,  %ohether  they  understand  it  or  not,  they 
must  obey  the  moral  law  as  it  comes  to  them  from 
the  lips  of  their  parents.  The  bond  that  holds  the 
family  together  is  this  very  power  of  the  father  and 
mother  to  make  their  children  ''  mind,"  by  force,  if 
need  be. 

AVe  say  the  word  "  ought "  very  frequently  :  it  means 
"  owe,"  and  whenever  we  use  it  we  imply  that  the  per- 
son of  whom  we  speak  has  a  debt  to  pay.  Children 
are  under  great  obligations  to  their  parents  ;  for  these 
give  them  food  and  shelter  and  clothing  and  education 
and  all  the  love  and  help  of  home.  They  owe  a  great 
deal  to  father  and  mother,  who  gave  them  life,  and  will 
do  their  best  to  make  their  lives  fruitful  and  happy. 
So  boys  and  girls  ought  (owe  it)  to  do  all  they  can  in 
return  to  make  life  at  home  pleasant  and  cheerful  for 
their  parents.  So,  likewise,  men  and  women  owe  a 
great  deal  to  the  human  society  in  which  they  are  liv- 
ing, and  which  is  the  source  of  very  much  of  their  hap- 
piness and  welfare.  They  owe  it  to  one  another  (ought) 
to  be  polite,  to  be  ready  to  assist  in  case  of  need,  to 
take  an  interest  in  each  other's  well-being,  and  in  all 
their  relations  to  give  as  well  as  take. 

"  Duty  "  is  another  great  word  of  the  law  which  is  over 
all  men  living  together  in  society.     Our  duty  is  what  is 


40  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

due  from  us  to  otliers :  so  it  means  the  same  tiling  as 
*'  ought."  "  Ought  "  and  "  duty  "  —  two  of  the  greatest 
words  in  our  hxnguage  —  always  indicate  that  we  live 
in  society,  that  there  are  laws  and  conditions  of  social 
welfare,  as  of  individual  happiness,  and  that  whatever 
these  laws  require  men  and  women  to  do,  in  order  that 
society  may  be  strong  and  pure  and  helpful  to  each  per- 
son who  is  a  member  of  it,  this  all  men  and  women  owe 
to  society ;  this  they  ought  to  do ;  this  is  their  duty. 
"Each  for  all,  all  for  each,"  is  the  proper  motto  of 
human  society.  It  is  a  whole  in  which  each  of  us  is  a 
part ;  and  each  must  act,  not  as  if  he  or  she  were  the 
centre  of  all  things,  but  as  if  recognizing  that  we  are 
to  do  each  his  part  and  to  take  each  his  portion.  It  is 
the  natural  function  of  the  child,  the  scholar,  the  ser- 
vant, the  workman  and  the  soldier,  to  act  according  to 
orders,  —  to  obey  parents,  teachers,  masters,  foremen,  or 
officers.  These  command  in  the  interest  of  the  family, 
the  school,  the  factory,  or  the  army-regiment  as  a 
whole ;  they  are  themselves  subject  to  the  morial  law 
of  these  associations,  and  if  they  command  by  right, 
they  also  have  the  duty,  they  ought  to  provide  for  those 
who  obey  their  orders. 

The  end  of  all  obedience  to  the  moral  law  is  the  high- 
est and  greatest  welfare  of  every  human  being  as  an 
individual  and  as  a  member  of  the  great  body  which  we 
call  human  society.  This  is  a  body,  an  organism,  in 
which  each  of  us  is  a  member.^  If  every  child  took  its 
own  way,  with  out  regard  to  the  advice  or  the  command  of 
its  parents,  the  true  family  life  would  be  impossible ;  if 
every  scholar  did  as  he  pleased  about  studying  or  recit- 
ing, the  very  reason  for  having  schools  at  all  would  be 
defeated ;  if  servants  obeyed  orders  from  their  masters 
or  mistresses  only  when  they  "  felt  like  it,"  little  work 
would  be  done  ;  if  men  in  a  factory  acted  according  to 

^  Compare  St.  Paul  {First  Epistle,  to  the  Corinthians,  xii.  14-26),  and 
Menenius  Agrippa  in  Sliakespeare's  Coriolanns,  I.  i. 


OBEDIENCE  TO  MORAL  LAW.  41 

their  own  fancy,  and  idled  or  worked  as  the  humor 
seized  them,  the  factory  would  soon  have  to  be  closed 
and  the  men  would  receive  no  more  wages  ;  if  every 
private  in  a  company  acted  as  if  he  were  just  "  as  big  a 
man  "  as  the  captain,  there  would  be  no  use  in  trying  to 
fight  a  battle.  Thus  the  welfare  of  the  whole  house- 
hold, of  the  whole  school,  of  the  whole  factory,  and  of 
the  whole  company  of  soldiers  depends  upon  obedience 
to  those  in  authority.  Every  person  in  authority,  in  his 
turn,  is  bound  in  duty  (ought)  to  work  for  the  welfare 
of  each  and  all  of  those  who  make  up  the  whole  body 
of  which  he  has  the  control.  We  do  not  obey  for  the 
sake  of  obedience  ;  we  do  not  command  for  the  sake  of 
commanding,  but  whether  we  obey  or  command,  we  do 
it  that  each  person  may  reach  his  highest  happiness 
and  welfare,  both  as  an  individual  and  as  a  part  of 
society. 

Disobedience  means  disorder  in  all  the  associations  of 
men  with  one  another ;  it  means  lawlessness,  self-will, 
the  setting-up  of  ourselves  as  the  whole,  or  as  the  most 
important  part  of  the  whole  ;  it  means  that  we  ask  other 
people  to  take  our  will  for  law,  instead  of  the  moral 
law.  But  this  will  not  do  in  the  relations  of  human 
beings  with  one  another,  any  more  than  it  would  do  in 
our  relations  with  natural  forces.  Society,  therefore,  in 
order  to  preserve  itself  and  so  give  its  members  (you 
and  me  and  all  of  us)  the  best  things  that  human  life 
can  afford,  enforces  moral  law.  Some  parts  of  this  law, 
such  as  those  which  forbid  killing  and  robbing,  are 
written  down  in  that  "law  of  the  land"  or  "statute 
law,"  which  we  began  by  speaking  of.  Other  com- 
mands of  the  moral  law  men  have  found  it  best  not  to 
try  to  enforce  by  writteri  laws,  but  to  leave  to  what  we 
call  public  opinion  to  deal  with.  Thus,  if  a  man  is 
unkind  and  harsh  in  his  treatment  of  his  children,  the 
law  will  not  do  anything  to  him  so  long  as  he  is  not 
actually  cruel.     Most  men  are  influenced  very  much  by 


42  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

what  other  people  think  and  say  concerning  them,  and 
we  find  by  experience  that  many  wrongs  are  righted 
more  effectually  by  leaving  them  to  public  opinion  to 
settle  than  by  passing  laws  against  them. 

Still  other  parts  of  the  moral  law  we  leave  to  each 
person  to  discover  and  obey  for  himself,  according  to 
his  circumstances,  his  education  and  his  moral  sense. 
But  whatever  is  actual  moral  law,  tending  to  the  wel- 
fare of  each  and  all,  is  to  be  obeyed  ;  whether  we  know 
the  law  or  not,  we  suffer  bad  consequences  from  not 
living  in  compliance  with  its  demands,  or  we  prosper 
because  we  are  acting  in  accordance  with  it.  For  man 
the  end  of  all  obedience  to  law  is  his  welfare  ;  he  lives 
under  law,  and  he  finds  freedom  and  happiness,  not  in 
fighting  against  the  conditions,  physical  or  moral,  of 
human  life,  but  in  full  and  cheerful  acceptance  of  them. 
Freedom  is  not  in  "  having  our  own  way,"  but  in  follow- 
ing the  best  ways  that  mankind,  in  its  thousands  of 
years  of  life  on  this  earth,  has  discovered.  Freedom  is 
realized  in  life  according  to  the  laws  of  human  nature 
in  society.  Life  through  obedience  to  reason  and  all 
that  reason  tells  us  of  law  —  this  is  moral  life,  the  life 
that  renders  human  society  possible,  and  makes  it  better 
and  better  as  we  learn  more  of  the  moral  law  and  obey 
it  more  faithfully.  The  natural  rulers  of  human  so- 
ciety are  those  who  know  more  of  life  than  ourselves ; 
so  we  should  respect  the  laws  which  have  been  ascer- 
tained by  the  wisdom  and  experience  of  many  minds ; 
we  should  respect  the  voice  of  public  opinion  in  regard 
to  matters  of  right  and  wrong.  When  we  have  been 
educated  by  experience  of  life  ourselves,  we  shall  still 
find  that  the  moral  law  is  supreme  over  every  other  law 
for  man,  as  it  is  simply  the  highest  law  of  our  own  nature. 
Desire  to  know  this  law  and  willingness  to  obey  it  — 
this  is  the  fundamental  matter  in  human  life.  The 
spirit  that  is  essential  to  our  highest  welfare  is  the 
spirit  of  obedience.     Our  first  lesson  is  to  obey  father 


OBEDIENCE  TO  MORAL  LAW.  43 

and  mother  at  home,  but  we  never  outgrow  the  necessity 
of  obedience  to  moral  law. 

"  Who  is  it  thwarts  and  bilks  the  inward  7nust  ? 
Ha  and  his  works  like  sand  from  earth  are  blown." 


NOTES. 


The  desire  to  command,  or  the  love  of  power,  is  one  of  the 
fuudameutal  desires  in  human  nature;  with  many  persons  it  is 
predominant.  Obedience  is  not  in  itself  pleasant  to  children,  or 
to  men  and  women.  But  there  are  few  leaders  and  many  fol- 
lowers in  human  life.  Napoleon,  the  most  masterful  of  men, 
declared  that  he  learned  to  command  through  the  obedience  re- 
quired at  the  school  of  Brienne,  and  Emerson  says  that  "  obe- 
dience alone  gives  the  right  to  command."  The  more  perfectTy 
parents  seek  to  carry  out  the  law  of  the  home,  and  teachers  the 
law  of  the  school,  which  prescribe  duties  to  themselves,  the  more 
capable  will  they  be  of  commanding  wisely.  Children  are  quick 
to  observe  the  evil  consequences  of  disobedience  at  home  or  in 
school  when  their  own  conduct  is  not  in  question.  Press  home 
to  them  the  reasons  for  the  very  existence  of  such  associations, 
which  are  defeated  by  insubordination.  The  military  drill  fur- 
nishes a  good  analogy ;  the  lives  of  great  generals  and  the  his- 
tories of  wars  are  full  of  incidents  illustrating  the  prime  need  of 
obedience.  All  associations  for  profit  or  pleasure  must  have 
leaders,  and  the  submission  we  pay  them  is  but  a  type  of  the 
obedience  mankind  owes  to  the  whole  moral  law. 

The  great  Stoic  moralists,  like  Marcus  Aurelius  and  Epic- 
tetus,  have  dwelt  forcibly  on  the  virtue  of  obedience.  The  in- 
scription on  the  monument  at  Thermopylae  ran:  "Go,  stranger, 
and  tell  at  Lacedsemon  that  we  died  here  in  obedience  to  her 
laws."  The  citizen  of  the  ancient  city  was  a  devotee  to  its  wel- 
fare. So  A.  H.  Clough  has  said:  "The  highest  political  watch- 
word is  not  liberty,  equality,  fraternity,  nor  yet  solidarity,  but 
service."  The  Wisdom  of  Solomon  declares  that,  "  The  very  true 
beginning  of  wisdom  is  the  desire  of  discipline.  If  a  man  love 
righteousness,  wisdom's  labors  are  virtues;  for  she  teacheth  tem- 
perance and  prudence,  justice  and  fortitude  ;  which  are  such 
things  as  men  can  have  nothing  more  profitable  in  their  life." 


44  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

Men  become  masters  of  the  forces  of  nature  by  first  obeying 
their  laws;  so  in  morality,  "laws  are  not  masters,  but  servants, 
and  he  rules  them  who  obeys  them."     (H.  W.  Beecher.) 

See  Miss  E.  Simcox's  Natural  Law;  James  Martineau's  Types 
of  Ethical  Theory,  vol.  ii.  chapter  4,  and  Leslie  Stephen's  Science 
of  Ethics,  for  discussions  of  the  ground  of  authority  in  the  moral 
law,  and  Lecky's  European  Morals,  for  a  good  view  of  Stoi- 
cism, 

"  I  slept  and  dreamed  that  life  was  beauty ; 
I  woke  and  found  that  life  was  duty." 

Duty  is  changed  to  delight  when  love  is  seen  to  be  "  the  ful- 
filling of  the  law." 


CHAPTER  III. 

SELF-CONTROL. 

It  is  very  easy  for  us  to  say  that  we  all  ought  to  obey 
the  moral  law.  But  very  often,  and  especially  when  we 
are  young  and  have  not  had  much  experience  of  life,  we 
find  it  hard  to  obey  this  law  ourselves.  Children  like 
to  have  their  own  way  when  it  seems  to  them  pleasanter 
than  to  obey  their  parents  or  teachers  who  bid  them 
take  another  way.  John,  for  instance,  is  playing  mar- 
bles, and  his  mother  tells  him  to  come  and  get  ready  for 
school,  as  he  has  only  time  enough  to  get  there  in  season. 
But  John  prefers  play  to  school,  just  then ;  perhaps  he 
prefers  it  all  the  time  !  So  he  keeps  on  with  his  game, 
and  his  mother  has  to  leave  her  work  to  speak  to  him 
again,  and  possibly  she  is  obliged  to  come  out  and  make 
him  get  ready  at  once.  Then  he  is  late  at  school,  and 
probably  he  has  got  to  feeling  so  iU-tempered,  because 
he  has  been  compelled  to  leave  his  game,  that  he  will 
not  study,  and  so  he  fails  in  his  lesson,  and  the  teacher 
keeps  him  after  school  to  make  it  up.  John  feels 
worse  than  ever,  and  when  he  gets  through  he  is  dis- 
gusted with  school  and  home,  and  he  thinks  it  will  be 
very  fine  to  be  a  man  and  do  as  he  pleases.  All  this  is 
the  result  of  his  disobedience  to  his  mother.  But  men 
and  women  laugh  at  him,  and  tell  him  that  he  is  very 
foolish  not  to  see  how  easy  a  time  he  is  having  now ;  his 
father  and  mother  care  for  him,  and  he  does  not  have  to 
work  to  get  his  food  and  lodging  and  clothing  and  edu- 
cation. They  are  doing  their  utmost  to  make  his  life, 
present  and  future,  good  and  happy ;  being  much  older, 
having  been  childi-en   themselves,  and  having   gained 


46  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

much  more  wisdom  from  experience  than  he  can  have, 
they  know  far  more  thoroughly  what  is  best  for  him 
than  he  can  know.  When  he  is  grown  up,  and  is  a  man 
in  fact,  not  merely  in  imagination,  he  will  have  a  man's 
work  to  do,  and  he  should  have  plenty  of  knowledge  and 
skill  to  do  that  work  well ;  he  will  not  be  able  to  "  do 
as  he  pleases''  and  at  the  same  time  be  a  good  and 
capable  man. 

A  considerable  number  of  persons  who  think  they  can 
do  as  they  jjlease  find  themselves,  naturally,  after  a 
time,  in  jails  or  prisons,  because  people  in  general  will 
not  allow  them  to  do  as  they  like,  when  it  comes  to 
stealing  or  cheating,  or  doing  bodily  injury  to  others. 
No  !  the  obedience  due  to  father  and  mother  and  teacher 
is  comparatively  a  simple  and  easy  matter  for  John, 
if  he  did  but  know  it.  He  is  acting  foolishly  and  un- 
reasonably in  setting  himself  up  so,  as  the  only  person 
whose  pleasure  is  to  be  considered.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
he  is  not  so  important  a  person  as  he  thinks,  and  the 
sooner  he  learns  this,  the  better  it  will  be  for  all  con- 
cerned. 

Here  is  another  boy,  Thomas,  who  likes  to  play  just 
as  well  as  John  does  ;  but  he  loves  his  mother  and  de- 
sires to  make  her  happy  by  obeying  her  cheerfully  and 
readily.  He  wishes  to  please  the  teacher  by  being 
punctual,  and  attentive  to  his  studies  in  school  time.  So 
he  quits  his  game  at  once,  when  his  mother  reminds  him 
that  she  has  an  errand  for  him  to  do  on  the  way  to 
school,  and  that  it  is  time  to  go.  He  walks  along  whis- 
tling and  thinking  how  fortunate  he  is  that  he  can  some- 
times do  little  things,  at  least,  to  show  his  gratitude  for 
all  that  his  mother  does  for  him  in  her  love  for  her  boy. 
When  he  gets  to  school  he  remembers  that  he  is  there 
to  study  ;  he  puts  all  his  mind  on  his  book  ;  the  lesson 
comes  easy,  he  recites  well,  the  teacher  is  glad  to  see 
him  so  willing  and  ready,  and  he  returns  home  with  a 
light  heart.    All  has  gone  well  with  him  during  the  day. 


SELF-CONTROL.  41 

Why  ?     Because  he  has  cheerfully  done  his  part.     It 

is  not  a  great  part,  but  it  is  something  which  no  one  else 
could  do  for  him,  and  it  is  necessary  that  he  should  do 
it  readily  if,  at  home  and  school,  all  is  to  go  on  pleas- 
antly and  profitably.  "^ 
When  Thomas  is  at  home,  he  feels  that  he  is  but  one 
among  several  persons  who  make  up  the  family  ;  that 
his  father  and  mother  are  wiser  than  he  and  anxious  to 
have  him  do,  and  to  do  for  him,  only  what  is  best ;  and 
that  all  goes  well  only  when  each  one  in  the  family 
group  thinks  of  the  welfare  of  all  the  others  as  well  as 
of  his  own  happiness  ;  so  he  tries  to  do  his  share,  to 
help  as  much  as  he  can  in  making  life  happy  for  all  at 
home.  When  Thomas  is  at  school,  he  bears  in  mind 
that  school  is  meant  as  a  place  to  learn  in,  and  that 
in  order  to  learn  well  he  must  leave  off  playing,  and 
"  buckle  down  "  to  his  book,  and  be  quiet  and  obey  the 
orders  of  the  teacher.  He  sees  that  these  orders  are  for 
the  good  of  the  whole  school,  of  which  he  is  a  part  and 
only  a  part,  and  that  nothing  could  be  more  unreasonable 
than  for  him  to  neglect  study  and  be  noisy  and  mis- 
chievous, thus  keeping  the  teacher's  attention  on  him- 
self and  disturbing  the  rest  of  the  scholars  in  their 
duty.  Thomas  is  a  healthy,  lively  boy,  who  likes  to 
play  and  have  a  good  time.  But  he  wishes  others  to 
have  a  good  time  too ;  such  "  good  times "  in  school 
mean  good  order,  and  good  lessons,  and  teachers  and 
scholars  all  pleased  and  busy  with  the  good  work  to  be 
done  by  them,  in  learning  and  teaching.  That  is  a  good 
time  anywhere,  when  the  thing  to  do  in  that  time  and 
place  is  done  finely  and  thoroughly.  Now  Thomas  plays 
with  all  his  soul  in  play-hours,  and  in  the  place  and 
time  for  study  he  studies  with  all  his  might.  He  has  a 
strong  impulse  to  play  too  long,  or  in  school,  but  he 
resists  it  —  as  we  can  resist  any  impulse  in  ourselves  if 
we  will  —  and  conquers  it,  and  the  better  impulse  wins 
the  day. 


48  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

We  have  had  much  to  say  about  obedience  to  la-w- 
as the  foundation  of  all  good  human  life.  But  we  all 
have  inclinations  at  times  to  prefer  our  own  wishes  or 
desires,  however  unreasonable  they  may  be,  to  the  obe- 
dience which  though  reasonable  seems  hard  and  dis- 
agree!ible.  We  are  so  made  that  there  is  often  this  con- 
flict between  av  hat  we  knoiv  to  be  the  proper  thing  for 
us  to  do  and  the  thing  we  wish  at  the  time  to  do.  We 
must,  therefore,  learn  to  control  ourselves ;  we  must 
practise  the  very  necessary  art  of  making  ourselves  do 
Avhat  is  disagreeable,  if  it  seems  to  us  the  right  and 
reasonable  thing,  until  it  shall  come  to  be  not  only  right 
and  reasonable  but  also  agreeable  to  us,  for  this  very 
cause.  This  is  precisely  what  we  often  have  to  do  in 
other  matters  than  our  dealings  with  human  beings. 

We  need  training  in  the  art  of  conduct  as  in  every 
other  art.  Mary  has  musical  talent  and  she  is  anxious 
to  learn  to  play  the  piano-forte.  So  her  father  l^uys  one 
and  engages  a  teacher  for  her ;  and  the  first  lessons  are 
very  pleasant.  But  after  a  time,  Mary  gets  tired  of 
scales  and  exercises,  and  begins  to  think  that  it  is  not 
"  worth  while."  She  is  discouraged  and  talks  of  giving 
up.  But  others  tell  her,  she  can  see  herself,  that  ex- 
cellence in  piano-playing  comes  to  most  persons  only 
through  diligence  and  patience  in  mastering  the  ele- 
ments.  She  is  soon  encouraged  to  find  that  she  can 
play  simple  exercises  without  keeping  her  eyes  on  the 
keys  ;  after  a  time  she  can  play  easy  tunes  without 
notes,  and,  if  she  contin^^es  to  persevere,  she  comes  in 
time  to  do  almost  automatically  what  was  once  very 
difficult  for  her.  She  is  amused  now  at  the  recollection 
that  she  ever  found  a  certain  exercise  hard  to  play. 
Mary  has  fully  complied  with  the  conditions  of  excel- 
lence in  music.  She  controls  her  desire  to  give  up  and 
try  something  easier.  She  perseveres  and  conquers  the 
difficulties,  one  by  one.  By  "  sticking  to  it  "  and  prac- 
tising and  practising,  she  establishes  what  are  called 


SELF-CONTROL.  49 

"lines  of  least  resistance ;"  her  fingers  move  swiftly 
over  the  keys,  she  acquires  skill  in  her  art,  and  she  finds 
future  i:)rogress  much  easier  in  proportion,  as  her  self- 
control  increases. 

With  all  our  dift'erent  characters  and  dispositions  few 
of  us  find  it  easy  to  do  always  the  thing  that  we  know 
to  be  right.  We  must,  then,  if  we  are  to  acquire  the 
fine  art  of  good  conduct,  learn  self-control,  and  this  im- 
plies patience  and  perseverance.  By  practice  we  shall 
establish  "  lines  of  least  resistance  ''  in  our  relations 
with  others,  over  which  we  shall  in  time  move  with  an 
ease  and  freedom  that  will  surprise  ourselves. 

Self-control  is  necessary  to  obedience  to  the  laws  of 
conduct  But  it  is  not  necessary  that  we  should  have  a 
sense  of  effort  and  difficulty  in  doing  what  we  call 
"right,"  in  order  that  it  should  be  truly  right  or  "vir- 
tuous '•'  in  us.  On  the  contrary,  the  ideal  we  should  al- 
ways hold  before  ourselves  is  to  make  the  doing  of  right 
deeds,  the  living  of  a  virtuous  life,  the  easiest  and 
most  agreeable  thing  to  do.  In  the  beginning,  Ave 
have  pains  and  trouble  in  making  our  habits  better, 
until  they  are  right  and  good  in  certain  respects  ;  then 
habit  slowly  becomes  a  second  nature,  taking  the  place 
of  the  former  untrained  and  undisciplined  nature,^  until, 
at  last,  it  is  "  as  easy  now  for  the  heart  to  be  true  As  for 
grass  to  be  green  or  skies  to  be  blue,  —  'T  is  the  natural 
way  of  living."  We  need  to  practise  self-control  until 
the  self  is  altered  for  the  better  —  we  can  alter  it  — 
and  then,  when  it  is  changed  for  the  better,  it  may  well 
have  free  play  in  that  direction.  A  hasty -tempered  man 
might  find  it  hard  at  first  to  wait  and  count  a  hundred, 
according  to  the  old  rule,  before  he  speaks,  when  he 
feels  himself  getting  angry.  But  in  time  he  should  be 
strong  enou.gh,  from  long  resistance  to  his  native  im- 
pulse, to  trust  himself  to  speak  at  once. 

^  "  Habit  a  second  nature,"  said  the  great  Duke  of   Wellington  ~~ 
"  it  is  ten  times  nature  1 ' ' 


50  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

In  every  art  the  acquirement  of  skill  and  excellence 
implies  discipline,  and  discipline  means  patience  and 
self-control.  Most  of  all  in  the  art  of  arts,  at  which  we 
are  continually  practising,  the  art  of  a  noble  life,  is  the 
desire  of  discipline  "the  very  true  beginning  of  wis- 
dom." On  the  other  hand,  it  is  the  height  of  unwisdom 
to  ask  continually :  "  Why  should  I  control  myself  ? 
Why  should  I  not  have  my  own  way  ?  "  This  would  not 
be  so  foolish  if  you  were  the  only  person  in  the  world, 
and  there  were  no  one  else  to  be  affected  by  your  actions. 
In  that  case,  you  might  properly  do  many  things  which 
it  is  not  right  or  reasonable  for  you  to  do  in  a  world 
where  you  are  surrounded  by  many  other  human  beings. 
These  other  persons  you  expect  to  be  considerate  of  the 
fact  that  you  yourself  exist,  and  that  they  owe  you 
something,  as  another  human  being,  in  all  their  rela- 
tions with  you.  When  you  are  ready  to  say  that  others 
owe  you  nothing,  then  you  can  ask  why  you  owe  it 
to  them  to  control  yourself,  to  abate  jovcs:  extravagant 
claims,  and  to  be  content  with  your  reasonable  portion 
of  good  things.  Each  of  these  other  persons  has  a 
"self"  also,  which  he  is  bound  to  preserve  and  care 
for,  according  to  the  instinct  of  nature  and  the  teach- 
ings of  reason. 

Very  many  things  which  are  necessary  to  our  life,  to 
our  progress,  and  to  our  comfort,  we  can  do  for  ourselves 
better  than  any  one  else,  or  perhaps  any  number  of 
other  persons  can  do  them  for  us.  It  is  natural  and 
right  that  we  should  "  assert  ourselves,"  and  claim  what 
is  needful  for  living  our  human  life.  Nature  makes 
this  instinct  of  self-regard  exceedingly  strong  in  each 
one  of  us,  and  it  is  one  of  two  or  three  fundamental 
forces  in  directing  all  our  actions.  Man  is  chiefly  dis- 
tinguished from  the  lower  animals,  however,  in  that  he 
can  reason  to  himself  about  this  instinct  of  self-preser- 
vation and  self-regard  and  the  great  instinct  of  regard 
for  others  (sympathy)  which  is  just  as  much  a  part  of 


SELF-CONTROL.  61 

our  nature,  and  can  determine  what  is  the  proper  place 
for  each  motive  in  his  actions. 

Constant  experience  teaches  us  very  plainly  how  much 
stronger  the  natural  instinct  of  self-assertion  is  than  the 
other  instincts  which  lead  us  to  forget  self  in  thinking 
of  others.  So  we  learn  that  the  essential  spirit  of 
morality  is  self-control  by  reason.  jVIorality  holds 
us  back  from  making  a  self-assertion  that  is  "exorbi- 
tant "  (i.  e.,  which  takes  us  out  of  our  proper  "  orbit ")  ; 
it  gives  us  a  more  moderate  notion  of  what  others 
should  do  for  us  (/.  e.,  of  what  we  call  our  rights),  and 
it  stimulates  us  to  do  what  we  ought,  what  we  really 
owe  to  others  {i.  e.,  our  duties).  There  is  no  rule  for 
determining  rights  and  duties  but  the  rule  of  reason,  as 
in  all  other  human  affairs.  Men,  however,  have  been 
living  in  social  relations  so  many  generations  that  they 
have  found  out  a  great  many  facts  and  laws  of  conduct. 
They  have  acquired  a  large  amount  of  practical  Avisdom 
and  of  moral  "  faculty  "  which  has  been  handed  down 
from  one  generation  to  another,  each  increasing  it, 

A  new  person  coming  into  the  world  does  not  need, 
therefore,  to  try  all  kinds  of  actions  to  find  out  which 
are  hurtful  and  which  are  helpful  to  himself  and  others. 
But  he  should  be  docile,  i.  e.,  teachable,  and  willing  to 
learn  what  things  have  already  been  found  good  to  do, 
and  what  things  have  been  found  to  be  bad.  To  be 
docile  is  to  have  such  self-control  that  we  shall  not  set 
ourselves  up  as  wiser  than  everybody  else.  We  need  to 
live  long  before  we  can  do  wisely  in  contradicting  or 
correcting  any  of  the  simple  practical  rules  for  common 
conduct  which  men  ages  ago  found  out,  and  which  mil- 
lions of  human  beings  have  learned  are  reasonable  by 
trying  to  live  according  to  them.  These  moral  precepts 
are  working  laws  of  human  conduct,  which  are  gradu- 
ally extended  and  made  definite  in  the  long  course  of 
human  experience.  It  has  thus  become  natural  for  civ- 
ilized men  to  live  obedient  to  moral  law  as  to  physical 


52  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

law.  But  not  all  men  are  civilized.  Ko  one  is  really 
civilized  until  lie  has  learned  to  know  himself,  in  some 
degree  at  least,  as  a  part  of  the  social  order,  and  to  fit 
himself  by  self-control  for  his  place  in  this  order. 
J  We  are  not  called  upon  by  reason  to  sacrifice  our- 
/ -selves  in  the  common  relations  of  social  life,  but  rather 
to  preserve  ourselves  wisely,  and  to  make  the  best 
and  the  most  of  ourselves,  keeping  in  view  the  good 
of  each  and  the  good  of  all.  Human  society  is  made  up 
of  as  many  "  selves  "  as  there  are  persons  in  it.  Each  of 
these  selves  appears,  usually,  to  itself  to  be  much  more 
important  and  deserving  of  consideration  than  it  does 
to  others.  This  is  a  common  fact  of  human  nature, 
which  is  seen  to  be  justifiable  in  reason  when  we  con- 
sider the  further  fact  that  each  one  of  these  "  selves  " 
has  the  chief  responsibility  of  caring  for  itself.  There 
is,  therefore,  a  very  proper  "  selfhood  "  ^  for  each  and 
every  human  being ;  his  self-existing,  with  no  need  of 
excuse,  is  a  most  important  fact  to  him. 

We  need  to  cultivate  and  develop  ourselves ;  self- 
culture  is  both  an  end  in  itself  and  an  essential  means 
to  helping  others  most  effectually.  As  a  part  of  this 
development  and  cultivation,  the  control  of  self  by  our 
knowledge,  by  our  reason,  by  our  social  instinct,  by 
sympathy,  by  the  Golden  Eule,  is  of  the  first  impor- 
tance. AVe  do  not  think  of  standing  on  our  heads  as  a 
regular  exercise  or  as  a  common  position.  Our  feet  are 
the  parts  of  our  body  meant  to  walk  with,  and  to  stand 
on.  So  our  minds  are  given  us  to  use  in  discovering 
the  laws  of  human  life  ;  and  the  laws  of  right  conduct, 
when  once  discovered,  are  no  less  natural  than  the  prac- 
tice of  walking  on  our  feet.  The  general  moral  law  of 
self-control  means  that  any  and  every  force  in  us  —  of 

1  Just  as  we  say  "childhood"  and  "manhood,"  not  blaming  or 
praising  the  child,  because  it  is  a  child,  or  the  man  because  he  is  a 
man-  Dr.  Dewey  was  wise  in  advising  the  restoration  of  the  word  to 
present  usage. 


SELF-CONTROL.  53 

feeling  or  passion  or  temper  —  must  be  kept  obedient  to 
our  enlightened  reason  and  our  disciplined  will.  Reason 
teaches  us,  for  example,  to  prefer  a  larger  to  a  smaller 
good,  and  to  subordinate  the  brief  present  to  the  long 
future.  Education,  therefore,  is  better  for  a  child  than 
unlimited  play,  because  it  will  outgrow  the  desire  for 
play,  and  its  childhood  will  give  place  to  manliood,  and 
this  should  be  instructed  and  capable,  as  only  years  of 
previous  education  can  make  it. 


NOTES. 

Self-control  should  be  taken  to  mean  restraint  of  the  lower 
self,  —  the  animal,  sensual,  anti-social  instincts  and  tendencies. 
The  higher,  nobler  self,  that  finds  its  true  life  in  the  life  of  all, 
is  thus  free  to  emerge  and  assert  itself  with  power.  The  higher 
self  is  to  take  the  lower  self  in  hand,  and  show  its  own  ability 
to  shape  thought,  feeling,  and  action  toward  an  ideal  excellence. 
(See  the  treatment  of  the  Will  by  the  various  writers  on  ethics, 
such  as  Noah  Porter  in  his  Elements  of  Moral  Science.)  In  this 
process  the  lower  self  is  not  sacrificed,  but  simply  confined  to  its 
own  sphere.  An  admirable  discussion  of  this  point  is  the  lecture 
on  Selfhood  and  Sacrifice,  by  Rev.  Dr.  Orville  Dewey,  in  the  vol- 
ume entitled  Christianity  and  Modern  Thought. 

The  formation  of  good  habits  is  the  obvious  step  toward 
diminishing  the  difficulty  of  self-control.  As  Walter  Bagehot 
says,  the  first  step  in  the  moral  culture  of  the  child  is  "  to 
secrete  a  crust  of  custom."  J.  F.  Clarke  in  his  Self-Culture  is 
especially  good  on  the  education  of  the  will.  "  Self-reliance, 
self-restraint,  self-control,  self-direction,  these  constitute  an  edu- 
cated will.  .  .  .  Freedom  is  self-direction.  The  two  diseases  of 
the  will  are  indecision,  or  weakness  of  will,  and  wilfulness,  or 
unregulated  strength  of  will.  The  cure  for  both  is  self-direction, 
according  to  conscience  and  truth." 

Read  The  Conqueror^s  Grave,  by  Bryant  ;  "  Prune  thou  thy 
words,"  by  J.  H.  Newman ;  "  How  happy  is  he  born  or  taught," 
by  Sir  Henry  Wotton  ;  Emerson's  lines,  closing, 

"  When  Duty  whispers  low,  '  Thou  must,' 
The  youth  replies,  '  I  can  ; '  " 


54  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

and  Matthew  Arnold's  Morality, 

"  Tasks  in  hours  of  insight  •willed 
Can  be  through  hours  of  gloom  fulfilled." 

He  that  ruleth  his  spirit  is  greater  than  he  that  taketh  a 
city;  so  the  lives  of  famous  inventors  teach  us,  as  they  bend  all 
things  to  serve  their  aim.  See  Mr.  Smiles's  Lives  of  the  Ste- 
phensons.  Men  of  Invention  and  Industry,  and  Life  and  Labor, 
for  instances  of  this  truth. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
TRUTHFULNESS. 

We  have  thus  far  been  attending  to  the  great  facts 
that  all  human  life  is  under  law  ;  that  one  of  the  most 
important  laws  for  man,  if  not  tlie  most  important,  is 
the  moral  law  which  springs  from  his  very  nature  as  a 
member  of  society  ;  and  that  we  are  obliged,  as  we  are 
also  able,  to  govern  or  control  ourselves  so  as  to  live 
according  to  this  law.  We  have  been  speaking  of  the 
actual  ■world  of  nature  and  human  society  in  which 
we  all  live.  Now,  a  very  large  part  of  our  life  depends 
for  its  character  and  its  results  upon  what  we  report  to 
each  other  about  what  is  or  has  been.  We  have  by  na- 
ture the  faculty  of  speech  by  which  we  communicate  with 
each  other,  and  we  have  found  out  the  arts  of  writing 
and  printing.  But  we  have  not  only  eyes  to  see  and 
ears  to  hear,  and  the  organs  of  three  other  senses,  which 
present  to  our  minds  the  realities  of  the  outward  world ; 
we  have  also  a  faculty  of  imagination  by  which  we  can 
form  to  ourselves  another  view  of  things  than  that 
which  our  senses  actually  give,  or  have  given  us.  We 
can  think  of  things  otherwise  than  as  they  are.  We  can 
use  words  to  express  our  thoughts  so  that  we  shall  in 
our  speech  re-present  to  others  the  realities  we  know, 
or  we  can  alter  them  in  our  speech  so  that  our  words 
will  not  correspond  to  the  facts  as  we  think  them  to  be. 

We  call  it  speaking  the  truth  when  any  one  de- 
scribes things  as  they,  in  fact,  appear  to  him  to  be,  or 
relates  events  as  his  senses  showed  them  to  him.  He 
may  be  viistakeyi,  as  his  senses  or  his  judgment  may 
have  misled  him ;  but  so  long  as  he  intends  to  re-pre- 


56  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

sent  fact,  he  is  truthful.  On  tlie  contrary,  when,  for 
any  cause,  he  means  to  speak,  and  does  speak,  of  things 
or  events  as  they  were  not,  or  are  not,  then  he  is  false. 
He  intends  to  deceive  us,  whether  he  succeeds  in  doing 
so  or  not.  Tlie  lirst  and  natural  use  of  words,  or  hu- 
man speech,  is  to  represent  reality.  We  are  in  a  very 
high  degree  dependent  on  each  other's  words  as  to  what 
the  facts  of  life  are.  A  large  part,  probably  the  largest 
part,  of  our  own  words  and  actions  are  based  upon  our 
confidence  that  other  human  beings  have  spoken  to  us 
the  truth. 

In  courts  of  law  the  witness  who  is  called  upon  to 
state  what  he  knows  about  the  case,  swears,  or  affirms, 
that  he  will  tell  "the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  no- 
thing but  the  truth."  In  ordinary  life  we  go  upon  the 
assumption,  generally,  that  the  words  we  hear  corre- 
spond to  fact,  that  people  are  re-presenting  to  us  the 
facts  as  they  are,  or  have  been  ;  and  we  act  in  accord- 
ance with  this  confidence.  We  must  live  in  an  actual 
world  :  we  cannot  live  in  an  imaginary  world,  as  it  has 
no  reality.  All  our  own  words  that  are  based  upon  a 
falsehood  told  us  by  another,  instead  of  a  truth,  have 
no  foundation  in  fact,  and  must,  therefore,  count  for 
little  or  nothing  in  the  end.  All  that  we  do,  thinking 
and  believing  that  a  certain  other  thing  has  been  done, 
because  we  have  been  told  so,  when,  in  fact,  it  has  not 
been  done,  lacks  proper  foundation,  and  is  likely  to 
come  to  naught,  or  to  work  harm  instead  of  good.  A 
true  report  of  facts  is,  then,  the  first  condition  of  satis- 
factory intercourse  of  human  beings  with  one  another. 
They  must  have  a  substantial  confidence  in  one  an- 
other's general  truthfulness.  Otherwise,  they  can  have 
little  dealing  with  one  another.  All  human  undertak- 
ings must  finally  rest  upon  reality,  and  correspond  to 
fact ;  every  departure  from  fact  means  for  all  men  loss 
and  harm. 

Hence  arises  the  prime  necessity  of  truthfulness  in 


i 


TRUTHFULNESS.  67 

human  society.  In  the  great  majority  of  cases,  men 
naturally  tell  the  truth ;  i.  e.,  whether  it  is  to  their  own 
advantage  or  not,  they  re-present  things  in  speech  as 
these  have  appeared  to  them  in  reality.  If  this  were 
not  the  case,  social  life,  in  which  men  inevitably  depend 
upon  one  another  for  information  and  guidance,  would 
be  impossible.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  very  much 
easier  to  say  a  false  "word,  thus  misrepresenting  fact 
in  some  degree,  than  it  is  to  do  any  one  of  a  hundred 
wrong  acts.  More  than  this :  when  we  have  con- 
sciously done  a  bad  deed,  we  usually  wish  to  avoid  the 
consequences  of  it,  and  we  naturally  try  to  escape  them 
by  lying  about  it.  So  offences  against  truth  are  the 
common  attendants  of  wrong  actions  of  a  thousand 
kinds.  "  Vice  has  many  tools,"  it  is  said ;  "  but  a  lie  is 
the  handle  that  hts  them  all." 

We  wish  our  clocks  and  watches  to  give  us  the  true 
time  —  the  hour  and  minute  that  actually  are,  as  distin- 
guished from  those  that  have  been  and  those  to  come. 
So  we  ask  that  other  human  beings  shall  give  us  "  true 
time  "  in  what  they  say  to  us.  If  the  clock  is  an  hour 
slow  or  half  an  hour  fast,  we  cannot  blame  the  clock, 
for  it  is  only  a  machine,  and  cannot  think,  or  be  said  to 
have  any  intention  to  deceive  us  so  that  Ave  shall  miss 
a  train  or  be  late  at  school :  we  properly  find  fault  with 
the  maker  of  the  clock  or  with  the  jeweller  who  should 
have  regulated  it  so  that  it  would  keep  good  time.  But 
boys  and  girls  and  men  and  women  think  ;  they  have  an 
intention  in  what  they  say,  and  if  they  tell  us  what  is 
not  true,  it  is  usually  because  they  mean  to  mislead 
us.  The  result  of  their  attempts  to  deceive  us  is  that 
we  lose  that  confidence  which  is  the  very  first  condition 
of  human  dealings.  A  boy  who  is  found  to  have  told  a 
lie  is  often  suspected  afterward  of  deceiving  even  when 
he  has  no  desire  or  intention  of  reporting  anything  but 
the  exact  fact.  When  a  witness  has  taken  an  oath  in  a 
court  of  law  to  tell  "  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and 


58  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

nothing  but  the  truth,"  and  then  tells  a  falsehood, 
known  or  afterwards  found  out  to  be  such,  he  is  pun- 
ished for  perjury  ;  and  if  he  should  ever  come  into  court 
again  as  a  witness,  everybody  would  be  slow  to  believe 
him  in  an  important  matter.  When  a  man  has  the 
reputation  of  being  "  the  biggest  liar  in  the  town,"  what 
he  says  may  very  often  be  entirely  true  ;  but  people  do 
not  believe  that  a  thing  is  so  because  he  says  it.  He 
has  forfeited  the  confidence  of  those  who  know  him, 
and  they  will  not  accept  his  sole  word  as  probably  true. 
He  is  put  out  of  the  pale  of  society,  so  to  speak,  in 
proportion  to  the  greatness  of  his  offences  against  truth, 
and  non-intercourse  with  him  is  practically  declared. 

The  person  who  tells  a  lie  which  is  believed  by  people 
who  have  not  yet  "  found  him  out,"  usually  begins  to 
think  that  a  falsehood  is  a  very  easy  substitute  for  the 
fact.  A  boy,  for  example,  has  disobeyed  his  father,  who 
had  commanded  him  not  to  go  in  swimming  in  the  river 
because  it  is  dangerous  ;  when  he  is  asked  if  he  has 
been  in  the  river,  he  boldly  answers,  "  No."  Thus  he 
adds  to  his  first  fault  a  second.  As  his  father  believes 
him,  John  is  quite  likely  to  try  the  same  plan  again, 
until,  at  last,  he  is  found  out.  Then  his  father  punishes 
him  for  the  disobedience  and  the  lie ;  but  the  worst 
part  of  the  whole  punishment  to  John,  if  he  is  a  self- 
respecting  boy,  is  that  his  father  and  mother  will  proba- 
bly not  take  his  word  as  sufficient,  in  any  matter  of 
consequence,  for  some  time  to  come,  until  he  has  shown 
that  he  is^  again  to  be  trusted  fully.  But  for  John,  or 
any  one  else,  to  deceive  thus,  and  then  ask  people  to 
treat  him  afterward  as  if  he  had  always  spoken  the 
truth,  is  most  unreasonable.  If  John  were  a  man  in  a 
position  of  responsibility  and  were  detected  in  lying,  he 
would  probably  be  turned  out  of  his  place  at  once,  be- 
cause the  truth  is  one  of  the  first  things  he  owes  his 
employer.  When  'Hhought  is  speech  and  speech  is 
ti-uth  "  we  can  trust  each  other  and  join  together  with 


TRUTHFULNESS.  59 

confidence  in  all  kinds  of  undertakings,  great  or  small. 
But  when  the  act  is  one  thing  and  the  word  is  another 
different  or  contrary  thing,  we  stand  apart  from  such  a 
man  in  suspicion  and  distrust,  and  we  refuse  to  work 
with  him,  since  truthfulness  is  of  the  very  essence  of 
voluntary  association  in  all  kinds  of  works. 

Our  house  of  life  must  be  built  upon  fact,  or  it  will 
fall.  When  we  repeat  "Great  is  truth  and  mighty 
above  all  things,"  we  mean  to  say  that  the  facts  of  this 
universe  are  far  stronger  than  any  mistaken  or  false  re- 
port of  them  which  any  one  may  make.  They  will 
come  to  the  light  at  last,  since  the  mind  of  man  is  evi- 
dently intended  to  know  the  truth,  i.  e.,  the  reality  of 
things.  Any  one,  therefore,  who  tells  us  the  truth,  in 
small  matters  or  in  large,  enables  us  so  far  to  bring  our 
life  into  harmony  with  the  laws  of  all  life  in  general 
and  of  human  life  in  society  in  particular.  He  clears 
the  way  so  that  we  can  walk  in  it,  if  we  will.  But  if 
another  human  being  deceives  us,  we  are  led  off  from 
the  right  road,  as  when  some  one  misdirects  a  traveller, 
and  he  goes  the  opposite  way  to  that  which  he  desires 
to  take,  or  in  any  other  direction  which  is  wrong  for 
him,  and  it  costs  him  much  time  and  trouble  to  find  the 
right  way. 

To  tell  the  truth  is,  then,  the  first  of  services  we " 
can  render  one  another  in  the  great  association  which 
we  call  human  society.  Knowledge  must  come  before 
action.  But  as  we  can  know  from  our  own  observation 
but  a  very  small  part  of  all  that  we  need  to  know,  we 
mainly  depend  upon  others'  report  of  facts  and  events 
in  order  to  act  wisely  and  properly.  Lord  Bacon  said  : 
"No  pleasure  is  comparable  to  the  standing  upon  the 
vantage  ground  of  truth."  This  is,  indeed,  the  case. 
When  we  tell  the  truth  we  are  in  harmony  and  union 
with  the  whole  universe  so  far ;  but  when  we  tell  a  lie 
we  leave  the  world  of  reality,  the  only  world  that  is,  and 
enter  a  world  of  unreality  which  we  have,  for  a  brief 


60  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

time,  created,  so  to  speak,  out  of  nothing,  and  wliich  has 
only  the  substance  of  nothingness  in  it.  We  may  add  lie 
to  lie  in  order  to  make  a  consistent  story  and  gain  belief 
for  the  time.  But  the  facts  are  against  us :  we  know 
it  ourselves.  It  is  not  as  if  we  had  simply  made  a  7nis- 
take.  We  have  deliberately  directed  our  fellow-beings 
wrong  on  the  way  of  life  ;  we  have  given  them  incorrect 
time,  and  we  have  tried  to  raise  around  them  a  false 
world.  They  cannot  fail  to  discover  the  deception 
sometime.  Indignation,  with  a  long  loss  of  confidence  ; 
constant  suspicion,  even  when  we  are  telling  the  truth, 
and  great  difficulty  in  all  their  dealings  with  us,  are 
the  natural  and  inevitable  results  of  such  lying. 

The  person  who  lies  gives  way  to  a  temptation  too 
strong  for  him  at  the  time.  A  boy  who  has  broken  a 
pane  of  glass  in  a  window,  while  playing  ball,  is  afraid 
that  he  will  be  punished  for  it,  and  so  he  declares,  when 
he  is  questioned  about  the  matter,  that  he  did  not  break 
it.  If  he  knew  and  realized  how  important  truthfulness 
is  as  a  constant  habit  in  all  our  relations  with  one  an- 
other, he  would  have  preferred  to  be  punished  rather 
than  tell  a  lie,  which  would  deserve  a  severer  punish- 
ment than  the  original  fault.  According  to  the  law  of  - 
habit,  with  each  time  that  one  tells  a  lie  it  becomes  ( 
easier  for  him  to  lie  again.  With  each  time  that  he 
conquers  the  temptation  it  is  so  much  the  easier  to  tell 
the  truth  again. 

It  is  just  as  important  for  us  that  we  should  respect 
ourselves  as  that  others  should  respect  us.  The  only 
way  in  which  we  can  maintain  our  self-respect  in  this 
matter  is  by  telling  the  truth ;  as  Chaucer's  Franklin 
says,  "  Truth  is  the  highest  thing  that  man  may  keep," 
and  when  he  keeps  it,  he  has  a  justifiable  pride  in  the 
fact  and  in  himself.  Knowing  how  hard  it  is  sometimes 
for  children  to  tell  the  exact  facts,  when  they  have  done 
wrong,  teachers  and  parents  should  always  try  to  make 
them  feel  that  an  offence  against  truthfulness  is  a  great 


TR  UTUFULNESS.  6 1 

weakener  of  proper  self-respect  and  that  it  is  often  a 
worse  fault  than  the  original  wrong-doing. 

We  should  speak  the  whole  truth.  Often,  by  keep- 
ing back,  purposely,  some  essential  fact  or  circumstance, 
we  can  produce  an  impression  on  another  person's  mind 
directly  the  opposite  of  that  which  we  are  sure  he  would 
probably  receive  if  we  told  this  fact  or  circumstance. 
Invariably,  we  should  tell  those  who  have  a  right  to 
know  the  facts  of  a  matter  from  us,  everything  impor- 
tant that  we  know  about  it ;  then,  if  they  get  a  mistaken 
impression,  it  is  not  our  fault.  We  owe  one  another  the 
whole  truth  simply  as  members  of  the  human  society 
in  which  all  are  dependent  on  exact  knowledge  as  a  pre- 
cedent to  wise  and  right  action. 

We  should  not  tell  more  than  tJie  truth  by  exagger- 
ating the  facts  or  by  inventing  circumstances  to  make 
our  talk  interesting.  When  the  exaggeration  is  plainly 
understood,  it  does  not  deceive.  But  we  should  not 
allow  ourselves  to  fall  into  a  habit  of  magnifying  things 
as  though  we  were  always  looking  through  a  microscope. 
If  a  boy  has  seen  two  dogs  fighting,  he  should  not  de- 
clare, "  Oh,  mother !  there  were  a  thousand  dogs  fight- 
ing in  front  of  our  house  this  morning."  We  should  be 
satisfied  to  report  things  as  they  have  been  or  now  are, 
neither  more  nor  less.  This  is  the  simplest  course  for 
every  one  to  take  and  to  keep. 

Duplicity,  which  is  another  name  for  falsehood  in 
action,  means  "  doi;bleness."  A  person  who  desires  to 
deceive  others  has  "  to  keep  up  appearances,"  as  to  cer- 
tain matters  about  which  he  lies.  In  all  other  respects, 
he  may  be  willing  and  even  anxious  to  let  the  facts  of 
his  life  be  manifest.  Now,  to  keep  up  appearances,  to 
seem  to  be  what  one  is  not,  is  a  far  harder  thing  to  do 
than  to  live  according  to  fact,  and  let  the  appearances 
be  simply  those  of  the  facts.  Duplicity  is  keeping  up 
two  courses  of  conduct,  side  by  side,  that  do  not  agree 
with  each  other.     We  do  not  deceive  ourselves  by  the 


62  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

lies  we  tell,  so  we  must  act  in  large  degree  as  if  these 
are  lies.  But  we  wish  to  deceive  others  by  these  false 
reports,  and  in  order  to  deceive  them  thoroughly  we  have 
to  act  as  if  we  had  spoken  the  truth.  The  farther  we 
go  in  such  a  course  of  conduct,  the  harder  it  is  likely  to 
become  ;  so  a  frank  confession  of  all  our  untruthfulness 
is,  at  last,  often  a  great  relief  to  us.  We  come  back 
with  pleasure  to  simple  fact  and  a  life  that  is  open  and 
straightforward  as  the  natural  and  right  way  of  living. 
We  have  found 

"  What  a  tangled  web  we  weave 
When  first  we  practise  to  deceive." 

We  must  throughout  life  take  home  to  ourselves  this 
lesson,  that  Truth  is  meant  for  man  and  man  is  meant 
for  Truth.  Language  is  our  natural  means  for  telling 
facts  to  one  another,  so  that  we  may  know  the  real  world 
in  which  we  actually  live,  and  do  wisely,  kindly,  and 
rightly  in  it.  We  must  obey  the  laws  of  nature ;  we 
must  control  our  actions  so  as  to  make  them  accord  with 
these  laws ;  but  the  most  fundamental  duty  of  men  in 
all  their  dealings  with  one  another  is  to  represent  things 
as  they  are,  in  nature,  in  society,  in  life.  Truth  is  the 
first  necessity  of  wise  living,  and  out  of  truth  comes 
the  only  beauty  that  is  permanent.  The  good  rests  upon 
the  true.  All  this  means  that  we  should  recognize  the 
facts  and  laws  of  our  human  existence  and  represent 
them  to  others  as  they  are,  as  the  only  sure  and  lasting 
foundation  for  a  good  and  happy  life. 


NOTES. 


The  teacher  will  find  some  help,  in  treating  the  duty  of  ve- 
racity, in  the  sections  or  chapters  of  most  of  the  standard  books 
on  ethics  which  pay  attention  to  practice  in  any  degree.  Among 
the  older  works,  Paley's  Moral  and  Political  Philosophy  ha.s  raTely 
been  surpassed  for  its  concrete  and  sagacious  treatment  of  prac- 


TRUTHFULNESS.  63 

tical  morals  :  the  chapter  on  Lies  (Book  III.  chap,  xv.)  is  inter- 
esting. Other  works  which  give  matter  of  value  in  this  direction 
are  Professor  Noah  Porter's  Elements  of  AI oral  Science  (Part  II. 
chap.  X.  p.  416)  ;  John  Bascom's  Science  of  Duty,  pp.  158-166  ; 
Mark  Hopkins's  Laio  of  Love  (on  the  "  right  to  trutli  "),  pp.  199- 
201  ;  A.  Bierbower's  The  Virtues  and  their  Reasons  j  and  Paul 
Janet's  Elements  of  Morals,  translated  by  Mrs.  C.  R.  Corson. 

As  a  specimen  of  illusti-ative  reading,  take  this  from  S.  Smiles's 
Character  (p.  214  ;  the  chapter  on  Duty-Truthfulness)  concern- 
ing the  great  educator,  Thomas  Arnold  of  Rugby.  "  There  was 
no  virtue  that  Dr.  Arnold  labored  more  sedulously  to  instil  into 
young  men  than  the  virtue  of  truthfulness,  as  being  the  manliest 
of  virtues,  as  indeed  the  very  basis  of  all  true  manliness.  He 
designated  truthfulness  as  *  moral  transparency,'  and  he  valued 
it  more  highly  than  any  other  quality.  Wlien  lying  was  de- 
tected, he  treated  it  as  a  great  moral  offence  ;  but  when  a  pupil 
made  an  assertion,  he  accepted  it  with  confidence.  '  If  you  say 
so,  that  is  quite  enough  ;  of  course,  I  believe  your  word.'  By 
thus  trusting  and  believing  them,  he  educated  the  young  in  truth- 
fulness ;  the  boys  at  length  coming  to  say  to  one  another  :  '  It 's 
a  shame  to  tell  Arnold  a  lie,  —  he  always  believes  one.'  "  (^Life 
of  Arnold,  i.  94.) 

There  is  an  apposite  story  of  Arthur  Bonnicastle  in  Dr.  J.  G. 
Holland's  novel  of  that  name  (p.  88).  The  story  of  Washing- 
ton and  the  cherry  tree  belongs  to  myth,  not  to  history,  as  one 
may  see  in  Lodge's  Life  of  Washington  (American  Statesmen 
Series)  ;  avoid  it,  as  much  as  the  myth  of  William  Tell  in  teach- 
ing patriotism.  Books  of  the  style  of  Miss  C.  M.  Yonge's 
Golden  Deeds,  Mr.  S.  Smiles's  Character  and  Self-Help,  and 
William  Matthew's  Getting  on  in  the  World,  will  afford  pertinent 
anecdotes  and  stories  of  truth-telling  and  its  opposite. 

As  to  the  causes  of  lying  by  children,  the  following  points  are 
useful,  from  an  instructive  paper  by  President  G.  Stanley  Hall 
of  Clark  University.  Aided  by  a  number  of  teachers,  he  col- 
lected very  many  data  as  to  the  character  of  children's  lies  and 
the  occasion  of  their  development.  He  finds,  that  with  children, 
as  with  primitive  people,  the  enormity  of  the  lie  depends  largely 
upon  whom  it  is  told  to.  A  great  many  children  have  persisted 
in  lies  until  asked,  "  Would  you  tell  that  to  your  mother  ? " 
Then  they  have  confessed  the  falsehood.  A  lie  to  a  teacher  who 
is  liked  stands  upon  an  entirely  different  moral  basis  from  a  lie 


64  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

to  a  teacher  who  is  uot  liked.  Lies  to  help  people  are  generally 
applauded  by  children.  One  teacher  reported  to  President  Hall 
that  she  had  been  considerably  saddened  because  her  class  of 
thii'teen-year-old  children  would  not  apply  the  term  "  lie  "  to  the 
action  of  the  French  girl  who,  when  on  her  way  to  execution,  in 
the  days  of  the  Commune,  met  her  betrothed,  and,  to  save  him 
from  supposed  complicity,  responded  to  his  agonized  ajjpeals, 
"  Sir,  I  never  knew  you."  To  the  minds  of  the  children  the 
falsehood  was  glorified  by  the  love. 

President  Hall  sensibly  recognizes  that  a  great  many  chil- 
dren's lies  spring  from  one  of  the  most  valuable  and  healthful  of 
mental  instincts.  Children  live  in  their  imagination.  The  finest 
geniuses  have  shown  this  "  play  instinct "  most  strongly.  The 
children  who  liave  this  type  of  imagination  most  strongly  devel- 
oped are  often  the  dullest  at  schools. 

Exaggeration  is  a  mild  species  of  offence  against  truth,  but 
children  may  be  taught  to  respect  things  as  they  are  ;  they 
should  certainly  be  taught  that  it  requires  more  care  and  thought 
to  relate  an  event  just  as  it  happened,  and  that  such  an  account 
is  more  creditable  to  them,  than  to  indulge  in  exaggeration  of 
any  kind.  Dr.  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  says  :  "  I  often  tell  Mrs. 
Professor  that  one  of  her  '  I  thmk  it  is  so's '  is  worth  a  dozen  of 
another  person's  *I  know  it  is  so's.'  "  We  should  uot  exaggerate 
the  degree  of  certainty  in  our  own  minds  concerning  what  we  say 
or  believe  ;  there  is  such  a  very  good  thing  as  "  the  rhetoric  of 
understatement."  Truth  is  stranger  than  fiction,  and  if  held  to 
consistently,  it  will  yield  more  variety  and  charm.  If  a  child  is 
evidently  imaginative  the  teacher  should  be  especially  careful  to 
keep  it  to  the  real  world  (outside  of  its  games  and  story-telling, 
understood  to  be  such),  which  it  should  be  taught  to  respect 
and  distinguish  as  the  world  we  have  to  live  in,  where  we  need 
veracity  more  than  imagination. 

Fear  is  another  great  cause  of  lying  with  children,  when  they 
have  committed  some  offence.  The  parent  or  the  teacher  shoidd 
not  offer  to  remit  the  proper  punishment  for  this  offence  in  ease 
the  cliild  will  tell  the  truth  ;  but  he  should,  as  a  rule,  make  the 
punishment  more  severe  for  the  lie  than  for  the  original  trans- 
gression, and  tlie  two  penalties  should  be  kept  distinct.  Tlie 
teacher  may  well  say  :  "  If  you  did  such  and  such  a  wrong  thing, 
I  shall  have  to  punish  you  for  it,  even  if  you  tell  me  frankly 
that  you  did  it  ;  but  if  you  lie  about  it  I  will  give  you  a  harder 


NOTES.  65 

punishment,  in  addition,  because  of  the  lie."  But  the  tempta- 
tion to  lying  should  be  made  as  slight  as  possible  by  the  teacher. 

Appeal  to  the  sense  of  honor,  as  in  Dr.  Arnold's  case,  and  to  the 
feeling  of  self-respect  ;  show  that  duplicity  (doubleness)  is  a  hard 
part  to  play,  that  the  liar  "  should  have  a  good  memory,"  as  one 
lie  breeds  others  which  must  be  told,  to  be  consistent,  and  all  of 
these  must  be  remembered  ;  that  the  facts  are  all  the  time 
troubling,  and  will  finally  triumph  over,  the  liar,  who  gets  into 
worse  and  worse  difficulties  continually,  while  he  who  is  plainly 
telling  the  truth  all  the  time  has  no  such  difficulties. 

The  loss  of  confidence  which  a  lie,  suspected  or  detected, 
brings  about  should  be  brought  home  to  the  child  who  has  told 
an  untruth,  by  declining  to  believe  him  the  next  time  he  makes 
an  assertion  at  all  doubtful,  and  telling  him  the  reason  why  you 
must,  inevitably,  so  do  ;  ask  him  how  he  likes  the  feeling  of 
having  his  word  doubted,  how  he  felt  when  he  has  been  deceived 
himself  ("  put  yourself  in  his  place  ")  and  how  he  felt  when  he 
saw  he  had  deceived  a  person  to  whom  he  owed  the  truth  in 
proper  gratitude  and  honor.  Be  sure  to  give  all  due  weight  to 
the  intention  of  the  child  in  telling  a  falsehood,  if  you  can  get  at 
it  ;  anything  else  than  a  plain  intention  to  deceive  should  make 
him  a  subject  of  enlightenment  rather  than  of  punishment.  But 
casuistry  should  be  avoided  in  the  general  talks  to  children. 
There  is  little  profit  in  discussing  with  them  the  question  if  one 
may  properly  tell  a  lie  to  a  drunkard  or  an  insane  person,  or  in 
order  to  save  life.  Such  debate  should  be  left  to  older  persons 
who  will  not  be  so  apt  to  become  confused  in  their  minds. 
Nature  will  teach  a;  person  what  to  do  in  such  a  case  better  than 
any  amount  of  discussion. 

Remember  how  many  a  child  that  shamelessly  reproduced  the 
immorality  of  a  savage  or  barbarian  in  its  frequent  lies  has  be- 
come thoroughly  truthful  when  grown  up  ;  the  lively,  mendacious 
Greek  is  thus  often  outgrown  in  time,  and  the  truth-loving 
Teuton  emerges  and  remains. 


CHAPTER  V. 
THE  LAW  OF  JUSTICE. 

As  we  all  live  under  the  moral  law,  each  of  us  has  a 
right  to  the  protection  of  that  law.  The  moral  law  is 
written  down  in  part  in  the  laws  of  the  land,  and  we 
see  in  every  civilized  country  what  are  called  "courts 
of  justice."  If  any  man  thinks  that  he  has  been 
wronged  by  another  who  has  taken  away  his  property, 
he  "■  goes  to  law,"  as  we  say,  about  it.  The  case  is  tried 
before  a  judge  and  a  jury.  The  judge  tells  the  jury 
what  the  law  of  the  land  bearing  on  the  suit  is,  and  the 
jury  decides  upon  the  facts  of  the  case,  whether  it  comes 
under  the  law  or  not.  This  is  one  way  of  getting  jus- 
tice done.  There  are  many  laAvs  about  property  and 
other  rights  ;  there  are  many  judges  and  lawyers  and 
legislators,  making  or  discussing  or  determining  the 
written  law.  The  object  of  all  these  arrangements  and 
institutions  is  that  every  man  may  have  his  own,  that 
which  properly  belongs  to  him. 

As  we  all  very  well  know,  a  large  part  of  the  moral 
law  is  not  written  down  in  the  statute-book  and  is  not 
executed  by  the  courts,  but  is  left  to  public  opinion  or 
to  private  persons  to  enforce,  because  it  can  be  enforced 
in  this  way  better  than  by  the  judges.  However  it  is 
applied,  justice  always  means  giving  every  person  his 
due ;  i.  e.,  what  others  owe  him  because  he  is  a  human 
being  in  society.  Speaking  generally,  he  himself  owes 
the  same  things  to  other  people  as  they  owe  to  him, 
since  all  human  beings  are  very  much  alike.  What  he 
calls  his  "  rights  "  are  the  "  duties  "  of  others  to  him, 
and  their  "  rights  "  measure  his  "  duties  "  to  them. 


THE  LAW  OF  JUSTICE.  67 

We  must  rule  out,  at  once,  from  all  our  thoughts  of 
moral  law,  the  notion  that  we  ourselves  have  more 
rights  than  other  persons  have,  or  that  we  have  fewer 
duties.  One  and  the  same  great  law  of  human  life  is 
over  us  all ;  it  makes  our  duties  equal  to  our  rights. 
In  the  great  whole  of  human  society,  each  person  is  a 
part.  The  whole  has  duties  to  each  part :  each  part 
has  duties  to  all  the  other  parts  and  to  the  whole.  This 
is  the  universal  law  for  entire  mankind.  Practice  of 
the  obedience  and  the  self-control  of  which  we  have 
had  so  much  to  say  results  in  justice  to  all  men.  "  The 
just "  is  the  fair  and  due  part  of  each  and  every  person. 

Ileum  et  tuum  :  we  know  what  this  Latin  phrase 
means,  "  mine  and  thine  ;  "  the  law  of  mine  and  thine 
is  that  you  shall  have  what  belongs  to  you,  no  more 
and  no  less,  and  that  I  shall  have  what  belongs  to  me, 
no  more  and  no  less.  Honesty  is  a  very  important 
part  of  justice,  and  honesty  is  respect  for  the  property 
of  others.  To  take  what  is  another's  property,  know- 
ingly, is  to  work  injustice.  We  may  do  this  by  vio- 
lence, while  he  protests  or  tries  to  prevent  us.  In  fliis 
case  Ave  are  setting  the  law  of  the  land  openly  at  deli- 
ance,  and  the  policeman  or  the  constable  or  the  sheriff 
will  come  and  arrest  us.  We  shall  be  taken  before  the 
court,  and  if  we  are  proved  to  be  guilty,  we  shall  be 
severely  punished,  because  it  is  for  the  interest  of  all 
men  that  the  rights  of  property  should  be  respected,  and 
because  private  violence  is  contrary  to  all  law  except 
the  rude  law  of  the  strongest,  under  which  savages  live. 
Reason  and  right  cannot  prevail  unless  violence  be 
punished. 

But  if  we  take  away  another  person's  property  with- 
out his  knowledge,  —  this  we  call  "  stealing,"  —  we  are 
also  breaking  the  great  law  of  meum  et  tuum,  and  it  is 
none  the  less  wrong  if  we  are  not  found  out  and  pun- 
ished. People  often  dispute  about  property,  different 
persons  thinking  that  they  have  a  clear  right  to  the 


68  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

ownership  of  the  same  thing,  —  a  house,  let  ns  say,  or 
a  piece  of  land.  In  such  a  case  they  should  let  the 
courts,  or  some  other  competent  authority,  decide  for 
them,  and  both  parties  should  respect  the  decision  after- 
wards. But  when  we  know  that  a  thing  does  not  be- 
long to  us,  we  owe  it  not  only  to  the  person  who  owns 
the  property,  but  also  to  the  whole  community  in  which 
we  live,  to  regard  his  right,  and  we  should  not  try  to 
cheat  or  defraud  him  of  it,  any  more  than  we  should 
take  it  away  from  him  by  force.  There  is  enough  in 
the  world  for  all,  if  each  will  take  only  his  part.  So 
mankind  thinks,  and  tries,  therefore,  to  set  up  "  even- 
handed  justice,"  as  Shakespeare  calls  it.  Enjoy  what 
is  your  own,  and  let  others  enjoy  their  own.  Such  a 
rule  would  keep  us  from  robbery  or  theft  of  any  kind. 
If  we  are  just  to  others,  again,  we  shall  not  take  or  keep 
back  any  part  of  what  belongs  to  them  since  they  have 
paid  for  it.  The  grocer  must  weigh  out  sixteen  ounces 
to  the  pound,  as  he  is  paid  for  the  pound ;  the  dry-goods 
clerk  should  give  thirty-six  inches  to  the  yard,  for 
otherwise  he  is  keeping  back  what  is  another's. 
.--)>  Justice  is  opposed  to  jx^ti'tialifi/  or  favoritism,  as  well; 
this  means  giving  to  one  person  more  than  his  share, 
as  when  a  teacher  is  kind  to  one  scholar  and  severe,  to 
another,  both  being  equally  deserving.  All  the  puj^ils 
in  the  school  have  a  right  to  the  teacher's  care  and  help, 
just  as  the  teacher  has  a  right  to  obedience  and  atten- 
tion from  all  the  scholars  alike.  The  upright  judge  in 
the  court  room  makes  no  distinction  in  his  rulings  be- 
cause one  man  is  rich  and  another  man  is  poor,  or 
because  one  is  white  and  the  other  is  black.  He  is  no 
"  respecter  of  persons  "  :  it  is  his  duty  to  apply  princi- 
ples to  cases  and  not  to  let  his  personal  likings  or  dis- 
likings  influence  his  action. 

The  old  Romans  represented  the  goddess  of  justice 
by  the  statue  of  a  woman  blindfolded,  holding  a  pair 
of  scales  in  one  hand  and  a  sword  in  the  other.     The 


THE  LAW  OF  JUSTICE.  69 

bandage  indicated  that  the  just  man  should  be  blind  to 
every  consideration  which  would  lead  him  to  favor  one 
person  at  the  expense  of  another.  The  scales  showed 
that  the  just  man  weighs  out  his  part  to  each,  that  he 
may  be  fair  to  all.  In  our  homes  we  should  all  weigh 
in  our  minds  the  parts  we  owe  to  father  and  mother,  to 
brothers  and  sisters,  and  to  other  relatives  there,  and 
give  them  freely  and  heartily,  full  measure  and  ample 
weight.  So  at  school,  so  on  the  street,  so  in  business 
and  so  in  all  our  relations  with  other  human  beings, 
we  should  be  just,  first  of  all.  In  order  to  do  justly  we 
have  to  recognize  the  truths  we  have  thus  far  been 
learning :  that  we  are  all  under  one  law ;  that  we  all  owe 
it  obedience ;  that  we  all  ought  to  control  our  selfish 
dispositions,  which  tend  to  become  the  very  opposite  of 
reason  and  justice ;  and  that  we  all  owe  one  another  the 
whole  truth.  As  we  go  along  further  in  our  study  of 
morality,  we  shall  see  that  very  much  more  of  right 
conduct  might  be  included  under  the  name  of  justice  : 
even  kindness  might  be  called  a  part  of  it.  But  let  us 
think  of  it  now  as  the  giving  his  fair  and  equal  part  to 
every  person,  whether  he  is  near  enough  to  us  for  us 
also  to  be  kind,  or  not. 

As  each  human  being  is  a  member  of  society,  each 
has  a  just  claim  to  his  fair  part  of  the  good  things  of 
the  world.  What  Ave  call  "  self  "  has  its  rights  as  well 
as  its  duties,  and  it  is  not  "  selfishness  "  for  any  one  to 
desire  to  have  that  which  in  reason  belongs  to  him. 
"  Selfishness "  means  asking  or  taking  too  much, 
more  than  one's  proper  share.  We  need  a  word  to  sig- 
nify without  any  shade  of  blame  the  existence  and 
action  of  the  self,  that  is,  of  each  individual  person,  in 
its  right  and  reasonable  degree.  Such  a  word,  as  has 
been  said  in  a  previous  chapter,  is  the  old  English  term 
"  selfhood."  Like  boyhood,  manhood,  womanhood,  and 
other  similar  words,  it  means  simply  the  natural  condi- 
tion of  each  human  being,  existing  as  a  person  of  the 


70  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

first  and  nearest  importance  in  his  own  eyes.  Nature 
has  given  him  consciousness  of  himself,  and  he  can 
never  take  the  same  attitude  toward  himself  as  he  holds 
toward  every  other  human  being.  He  views  his  self 
from  within,  but  all  other  persons  he  sees,  and  must 
see,  from  without.  The  preservation  of  this  self  from 
danger  or  disease  or  death,  and  the  maintenance  of  it  in 
health  and  comfort  are,  by  a  law  of  nature,  peculiarly 
the  business  of  each  one  of  us,  more  especially  when  we 
have  reached  our  full  size  and  strength.  Each  person 
can,  on  the  whole,  provide  for  himself  better  than  others 
can  provide  for  him.  Self-help  is  thoroughly  natural, 
and  it  is  usually  the  best  kind  of  help.  The  devel- 
opment of  all  one's  powers  of  body  and  mind  is  pecul- 
iarly one's  own  duty  and  privilege.  There  is  nothing 
selfish  or  wrong  in  any  one's  asking  for  what  is,  reason- 
ably, his  share. 

We  become  selfish,  i.  e.,  we  carry  our  natural  liking 
for  ourselves  too  far,  when  we  take  away  from  others, 
directly  or  indirectly,  what  is  theirs,  to  make  it,  wrong- 
fully, our  own  property.  As  we  all  know,  selfishness, 
the  claiming  or  taking  too  much,  is  the  most  common 
form  of  all  wrong-doing.  It  might  be  said  that  it  is  j 
even  the  foundation  or  source  of  almost  all  wrong-  I 
doing.  When  we  think  very  highly  of  our  own  merits 
and  very  little  of  the  rights  of  others,  we  really  act  as 
if  human  society  revolved  around  us  as  its  centre ;  we 
are  virtually  claiming  that  we  cannot  have  too  much,  or 
others  too  little,  the  main  matter  being  that  we  shall  be 
satisfied.  This  is  making  the  same  kind  of  mistake 
that  men  used  to  make  when  they  imagined  that  the 
sun  and  the  planets  and  all  the  stars  of  heaven  revolved 
around  this  little  earth  of  ours  as  their  centre.  It  icas 
not  so ;  it  is  not  so,  and  it  cannot  be  made  to  he  so  by  any 
amount  of  talking  or  doing  on  our  part.  So  when  any 
man  or  woman,  or  boy  or  girl,  acts  as  if  the  whole  fam- 
ily, or  the  whole  school,  or  the  whole  neighborhood,  or 


I 


THE  LAW  OF  JUSTICE.  71 

town  or  city  or  state  or  nation  revolves,  or  should  re- 
volve, around  his  or  her  own  convenience  or  comfort  or 
happiness,  the  same  great  mistake  is  made.  All  these 
associations  of  human  beings  are  intended  for  the  good 
of  each  and  all  together ;  every  individual  in  any  one 
of  them  must  consult  the  welfare  of  all  the  others,  as 
well  as  of  himself,  if  the  association  is  to  continue  in 
its  natural  and  proper  form,  and  if  each  is  to  receive 
from  it  the  greatest  degree  of  aid  and  comfort. 

The  rule  of  justice,  then,  is.  To  each  man  his  part. 
The  way  to  bring  this  about  is  to  act,  in  the  first  place, 
reasonably,  to  have  a  moderate  and  sensible  notion  of  our 
own  merits,  to  remember  that  each  of  us  is  only  one  of 
many,  that  each,  indeed,  is  very  important  to  himself, 
but  that  all  these  different  selves  are  to  live  together  in 
a  common  society  under  one  and  the  same  moral  law. 
So  apt  are  we  all  to  exaggerate  our  own  personal  merits, 
so  very  apt  to  take  more  than  what  in  reason  belongs 
to  us,  that  it  becomes  a  necessity  for  us  to  make  a  con- 
stant allowance  for  this  disposition.  Very  few  persons, 
indeed,  are  likely  to  decide  impartially  in  a  case  where 
their  own  interests  are  involved.  Hence,  it  is  a  matter 
of  the  highest  importance  for  us  to  realize  our  compara- 
tive inability  to  judge  ourselves  correctly.  Our  one  re- 
source, if  we  must  decide  ourselves,  is  to  try  to  obey 
the  maxim.  Put  yourself  in  his  place.  "WTien  we 
have  a  dispute  with  another,  or  when  it  is  a  matter  con- 
cerning meum  et  tuum,  our  safest,  surest  way  is  to  obey 
the  Golden  Eule  of  conduct,  "  Do  unto  others  as  ye 
would  that  others  should  do  unto  you." 

Practically,  this  is  the  most  important  of  all  rules  for 
governing  our  actions,  because  we  are  strongly  inclined 
by  nature  to  think  of  ourselves  more  highly  than  we 
ought  to  think,  in  reason.  But  if  we  once  put  ourselves, 
in  imagination,  in  the  other  person's  place,  and  ask  our- 
selves how  we  should  then  like  to  have  him  do  to  us  as 
we  were  purposing  to  do  to  him,  we  get  a  new  light  on 


72  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

the  matter.  It  becomes  plain  to  us,  very  often,  that  we 
should  not  at  all  like  to  be  treated  so  by  any  one,  and 
should  consider  such  treatment  unreasonable  and  un- 
fair. If,  then,  it  would  be  so  for  us,  why  should  it  not 
be  so  for  him  ?  The  action  remains  the  same,  the  dif- 
ference being  only  that  the  one  who  does  the  wrong 
and  the  one  who  suffers  the  wrong  have  changed  places. 
Many  persons  declare,  by  their  practice,  that  they  hold 
the  view  of  the  African  chief  who  was  asked  the  differ- 
ence between  right  and  wrong  :  "  Eight,"  he  answered, 
"  is  when  I  take  away  my  neighbor's  cattle ;  wrong  is 
when  he  takes  away  mine  ! "  But  this,  of  course,  is  the 
very  height  of  unreason  :  it  amounts  to  denying  that 
there  is  one  and  the  same  law  binding  upon  all  men 
alike,  which  makes  stealing  or  robbery  wrong  because 
it  is  an  offence  against  the  social  life. 

Justice  and  selfishness,  therefore,  are  the  two  ex- 
tremes of  action.  The  just  man  obeys  the  social,  moral 
law ;  the  selfish  man  sets  up  his  own  will  or  pleasure  as 
the  only  law  that  he  wishes  to  obey.  Liberty,  the  self- 
ish person  thinks,  is  liberty  to  do  as  he  pleases  and  take 
all  he  likes ;  but  he  is  very  much  mistaken.  The  real 
freedom  for  all  men  is  liberty  to  act  according  to  the 
Golden  Rule.  "  Look  out  for  number  one  "  is  the  prin- 
ciple of  the  selfish  man  ;  by  "  number  one  "  he  means 
himself.  But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  is  he  "  number 
one  "  in  respect  to  other  matters  than  his  relations  to 
his  fellow-men  ?  Was  the  sun  made  for  him  ?  Will 
the  rain  come  at  his  convenience  ?  Can  he  be  idle  and 
yet  have  all  the  rewards  of  industry  ?  Can  he  disre- 
gard any  other  law  than  the  moral  law  with  safety  and 
profit  to  himself  ?  He  surely  cannot  so  do.  He  is  no 
more  "  number  one  "  before  the  moral  law  than  he  is 
before  physical  law.  Moral  law  is  law  for  the  exist- 
ence and  preservation  and  progress  of  human  society, 
including  all  its  individual  members.  Society  is 
number  one,  and  the  moral  law  leaves  no  individual 


THE  LAW  OF  JUSTICE.  73 

exempt  from  its  equal  operation  and  application.  Hon- 
esty is  "  the  best  policy,"  therefore,  because  it  is  in 
harmony  with  the  law  of  justice  that  includes  all  men 
without  an  exception. 

We  are  obliged  to  balance  self  and  others  in  very 
many  of  our  moral  judgments  and  actions.  We  may  be 
Tcry  sure  that  the  two  parties  are  meant  by  nature  to 
work  together  in  harmony  for  the  welfare  of  all.  We 
have  instincts  of  justice  as  well  as  instincts  of  selfish- 
ness. Through  our  faculty  of  reason  and  our  power  of 
self-control,  we  can  bring  ourselves  and  others  to  a  true 
selfhood  which  is  just  to  all.  Living  in  it  we 
should  be  true  to  our  own  selves  and  false  to  no  man. 
But  to  reach  this  end  we  need  to  think  upon  justice 
first.  Self  will  probably  assert  itself  fully  enough, 
with  most  of  us,  without  encouragement.  When  we 
think  earnestly  about  our  duties,  to  do  them,  other 
men  will  usually  be  quite  ready  to  give  us  our  rights 
with  pleasure.  But  if  we  are  very  clamorous  about 
"  our  rights,"  they  wall  probably  ask  us  first  if  we  have 
discharged  our  own  part.  Not  England  alone,  but  all 
mankind  "  expects  that  every  man  will  do  his  duty." 
A  man  who  attends  to  all  his  duties  will  not  talk  pro- 
fusely about  his  rights. 


NOTES. 

"  Justice  satisfies  everybody,  and  justice  alone,"  says  Emer- 
son. No  word  is  more  common  to-day  than  "rights."  See,  for 
example,  Herbert  Spencer's  Justice,  with  its  chapters  on  the 
rights  of  women  and  children.  But  "  duties  "  are,  on  the  whole, 
much  more  profitable  things  to  consider.  Under  justice  comes 
honesty  in  all  our  dealings,  as  opposed  to  cheating,  defrauding, 
stealing,  adulteration  of  goods,  and  scamping  work;  the  keeping 
of  promises  ("  who  sweareth  to  his  hurt  and  changeth  not ") ;  re- 
gard for  the  reputation  of  others;  fair  methods  of  making  money 
(read  J.  Wolcott's  poem,  The  Razor-Seller),  and  a  hundred  other 


74  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

topics.  "  Fair  play "  is  an  important  aspect  of  justice  easily 
brought  into  the  view  of  boys  and  girls  in  school.  Justice  rests 
finally  on  the  idea  of  equality,  that  all  men  have  certain  great 
rights  as  men,  owed  them  by  all  other  men  as  duties.  "  A  man 's 
a  man  for  a'  that."  Justice  is  the  law  of  the  business  world, 
where  kindness  is  not  often  mentioned.  See  Dole's  American 
Citizen,  part  third,  on  "economic  duties,  or  the  rights  and  duties 
of  business  and  money."  "  The  most  enviable  of  all  titles," 
said  Washmgton,  —  "  the  character  of  '  an  honest  man.'  "  "  Jus- 
tice," said  Aristotle,  "more  beautiful  than  the  morning  or  the 
evening  star." 


CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  LAW  OF  KINDNESS. 

In  considering  the  full  meaning  of  justice  we  have 
said  that  it  might  be  so  defined  at  last  as  to  make  it  in- 
clude kindness,  and  we  came  to  the  Golden  Eule  as  its 
best  expression.  But  still  it  will  probably  seem  to 
many  that,  so  far,  we  have  been  making  morality  stern 
and  forhklding,  since  we  have  had  so  much  to  say  about 
law  and  obedience,  —  joyless  words,  most  often  !  We 
have  taken  this  course  deliberately,  however,  in  order 
to  think  and  reason  clearly  about  this  most  important 
matter,  —  our  conduct.  But  we  should  be  omitting  the 
view  of  conduct  which  changes  its  whole  aspect,  if  we 
left  out  kindness.  Justice  we  commonly  regard  as 
based  upon  deliberate  thought,  and  we  often  say  that 
one  must  not  let  his  "  feelings  bias  his  judgment  "  on  a 
question  of  right  and  wrong.  Yet  a  very  great  portion 
of  our  life  is  the  life  of  feeling.  While  we  should  not 
try  to  distinguish  feeling  and  thought  too  closely,  each 
has  its  large  place. 

In  all  our  conduct  feeling  has  a  great  part  to  play. 
We  only  need  to  be  sure  that  the  feeling  is  rightly  di- 
rected and  not  immoderate  in  its  degree.  This  beins 
so,  the  more  strongly  we  feel  in  matters  of  conduct  the 
better,  for  feeling  is  the  powerful  force  that  makes 
action  easy.  If  we  "think  clear  and  feel  deep"  we 
shall  be  most  likely  to  "  bear  fruit  well,"  and  this  is 
what  every  "  friend  of  man  desires."  Now  kindness\ 
is  the  word  that  stands  preeminently  for  f/ood  feelinr/_^ 
In  many  of  its  uses  it  means  as  much  or  nearly  as  much 


76  TRE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

as  Love,  and  Love  is  the  word  that  marks  the  strong- 
est possible  feeling  of  personal  attachment.  We  shall 
use  the  word  Kindness  in  preference  to  Love  in  speak- 
ing of  acts  and  feelings  which  concern  many  persons, 
because  Love  is,  strictly,  an  intensely  attractive  feeling 
in  persons  very  near  each  other,  such  as  members  of 
one  family,  intimate  friends,  or  men  and  women  who 
are  "  in  love  "  with  each  other,  as  we  say.  The  deep 
sympathy  Ave  call  "  love "  continues  strong  while  it  is 
confined  to  a  few  as  its  object ;  but  if  we  try  to  extend 
it  to  many  persons  it  necessarily  loses  its  intensity. 
As  we  are  now  considering  feelings  which  are  to  be 
entertained  toward  the  many,  not  toward  the  few,  it  is 
well  to  say  "kindness,"  and  reserve  "love"  for  the 
highest  degree  of  affection.  We  will  speak  then  of 
"  the  law  of  kindness,"  rather  than  of  "  the  law  of 
love,"  for  the  present. 

We  all  know  that  persons  may,  not  rarely,  deserve 
to  be  called  just,  and  not  deserve  to  be  called  kind.  We 
often  say  that  we  respect  a  certain  man  because  he  does 
right  habitually,  but  that  we  are  not  "  attracted "  to 
him.  His  conduct  seems  to  us  reasonable  and  just;  but 
it  lacks  that  element  of  grace  and  charm  which  we 
imply  when  we  say  that  another  person  is  thoroughly 
kind  —  "  kind-hearted  "  we  generally  phrase  it,  making 
an  implied  distinction  between  the  "  heart "  and  the 
"  head."  We  must  be  very  careful  not  to  press  this 
distinction  too  far,  and  make  too  much  of  it,  for  head 
and  heart,  not  only  literally  but  in  this  figurative  use  as 
well,  are  necessary  parts  of  the  same  person ;  they  are 
not  always  or  often  to  be  set  in  sharp  opposition.  But 
there  is  a  difference,  plain  to  see,  between  good  conduct 
that  is  simply  just  and  good  conduct  that  has  "  heart  in 
it,"  i.  e.,  is  also  "  kind."  Eeal  kindness  is  not  opposed  to 
justice,  but  is  above  it  as  a  superior  degree  in  right  con- 
duct. There  is  in  kindness  a  notion  of  wholeness, 
immediateness  and  inspiration,  which  are  more  pleas- 


THE  LAW  OF  KINDNESS.  77 

ing  and  winning  than  the  most  careful,  well  calculated 
and  deliberate  justice  can  be  by  itself. 

Kindness,  in  fact,  is  the  ideal  of  conduct  toward 
the  great  Body' of  our  fellow-creatures.  We  have  said 
in  the  last  chapter  that  mankind  has  a  natural  instinct 
to  be  just,  as  well  as  an  innate  disposition  to  be  selfish. 
It  is  also  true,  and  a  very  important  thing  it  is  to  bear 
in  mind,  that  human  nature  has  another  instinct,  to  be 
kind.  Sympathy  (/.  e.,  feeling  with  another,  especially 
in  his  troubles)  is  precisely  as  natural  to  man  as  self- 
ishness; sympathy  is  but  another  name  for  kindness. 
Selfhood  and  sympathy  —  feeling  for  one's  self  and  feel- 
ing with  and  for  others  —  are  the  two  poles  on  which 
the  world  of  personal  conduct  revolves.  Each  feeling 
is  good  and  right  in  itself.  The  practical  matter  al- 
ways is  to  keep  each  in  its  proper  place  and  confine  it 
to  its  right  degree. 

It  may  help  us  a  little,  at  this  critical  point;  to  be  just 
to  self  and  to  others  if  we  consider  closely  the  several 
meanings  of  the  words  "  kind "  and  "  kindness."  ^ 
"  Kind "  as  a  noun  means  (this  is  the  original  use  of 
the  word)  the  species,  or  class,  to  which  a,  being  be- 
longs, as  in  the  phrase  "  cattle  after  their  kind."  There 
are  kinds  of  plants  and  kinds  of  animals.  Among  ani- 
mal beings,  we  belong  to  mankind.  Each  species  or  class 
has  its  peculiar  nature,  by  reason  of  which  we  are  led 
to  call  it  a  separate  kind.  This  nature  is,  to  all  belong- 
ing to  this  kind,  a  necessary  law  of  their  action  ;  they 
simply  must  act  according  to  their  kind.  "  They  fol- 
low the  law  of  their  kind,"  we  say  of  all  living  animals. 
In  connection  with  this  nature  we  also  use  the  words 
native  propensity,  disposition,  character ;  these  are  all 
"  natural,"  if  they  are  involved  in  the  "  kind."  It  is 
the  disposition  of  the  tigress,  for  instance,  to  be  cruel 

^  The  teacher  will  observe  that  elsewhere  I  have  preferred  to  dis- 
cuss in  the  notes  the  matter  of  etymologies  —  so  interesting  and  im- 
portant in  ethical  reasoning  — or  to  leave  it  untouched. 


78  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

to  all  animals  but  her  own  young  :  to  them  she  is  affec- 
tionate. Equally  it  is  the  character  ui  the  clog  to  be 
fond  of  his  master,  and  faithful  to  him.^  So  men  and 
women  have  a  certain  general  disposition  or  character 
because  they  all  belong  to  mankind.  Eor  instance,  you 
are  "  led  by  kind  to  admire  your  fellow-creature,"  says 
Dryden. 

The  first  use  of  "  kind  "  as  an  adjective  follows  di- 
rectly from  these  meanings  which  we  have  been  mention- 
ing. Whatever  is  "  characteristic,"  i.  e.,  is  a  mark,  of  a 
species,  whatever  belongs  to  its  nature,  is  natural  or 
native  to  it,  is  therefore  "  kind  "  to  it,  in  this  primitive 
sense.  ("  Kind "  and  "  kin,"  we  have  to  remember, 
are  etymologically  the  same  word  ;  "  kin  "  or  "  akin," 
and  ''kind,"  in  this  present  sense,  mean  just  the  same.) 
"  The  kind  taste  "  of  an  apple  is  the  taste  natural  to  an 
apple.  The  hay  "  kindest  for  sheep "  is  the  hay  that 
suits  best  their  taste.  "  Kindly "  is  another  form  of 
"  kind."  "  The  kindly  fruits  of  the  earth "  are  the 
fruits  which  the  earth  naturally  produces,  *".  e.,  after  its 
kind.  Next  "  kind  "  comes  to  mean  especially,  in  the 
case  of  human  beings,  having  the  feelings  that  are  com- 
mon and  natural  to  the  kind,  the  feelings  which  indi- 
cate, as  well  as  stature  or  complexion,  a  community  of 
descent.  "  A  kindless  villain,"  such  as  Hamlet  calls  the 
King,  is  one  who  acts  contrary  to  the  usual  disposition 
of  men,  as  the  King  did  in  murdering  his  own  brother, 
Hamlet's  father.  "A  little  more  than  kin  and  less 
than  kind,"  says  Hamlet  again,  of  the  king,  playing  on 
the  related  words.  The  chorus  in  "  Henry  V.,"  ad- 
dressing England,  exclaims  :  — 

"  \Vliat  miglitst  thoa  do 
Were  all  thy  children  kind  and  natural ;  " 

that  is,  were  they  all  true  to  their  nature  as  English- 
men, with  no  traitors  among  them. 

^  "  Tho  bee,"  says  Richard  Rolle  de  Hampole,  the  old  English 
writer,  "  has  three  kyudes ;  ane  es  that  sche  is  neuer  ydell." 


THE  LAW  OF  KINDNESS.  79 

"Kind  "  as  an  adjective  easily  passes  on  to  imply  not 
only  the  feelings  which  show  a  common  nature  in  hu- 
man beings,  but  in  particular  the  feelings  which  show 
it  most,  the  tender  emotions.  These  prove  the  exist- 
ence, in  a  person,  of  a  high  degree  of  sympathy  or  com- 
passion (these  two  words  are  etymologically  the  same). 
"  A  fellow-feeling  makes  us  wondrous  kind."  "  One 
touch  of  nature  makes  the  whole  world  kin,"  i.  e.,  it 
makes  men  feel  alike,  and  with  each  other.  When,  we 
are  thoughtful  about  the  fortunes  of  others,  and  dwell 
upon  their  lot  so  as  to  feel  with  them,  "  we  become 
kindly  with  our  kind,"  as  Tennyson  writes.  In  this 
way  "  kind,"  the  adjective,  reaches  its  present  and  usual 
meaning  of  tender  and  thoughtful  for  the  welfare  of 
others,  in  little  things  as  well  as  in  great. 

The  history  of  "kindness,"  the  noun,  has  followed  the 
same  course.  In  "  Much  Ado  About  iSrothing  "  the  un- 
cle of  Claudio  is  reported  by  the  messenger  to  have 
burst  into  tears  when  he  heard  how  his  nephew  had 
distinguished  himself  in  battle.  "  A  kind  overflow  of 
kindness,"  says  Leonato  there,  meaning,  as  he  jdayed 
upon  the  words,  a  natural  overflow  of  tender  feeling  in 
one  related,  "  akin,"  to  Claudio.  "  Thy  nature,"  says 
Lady  Macbeth  to  her  more  humane  spouse,  "  is  too  full 
o'  the  milk  of  human  kindness,"  i.  e.,  to  kill  the  king. 
'  Kindness,"  then,  points  to  the  great  fact  on  which  the 
moral  law  rests,  that  we  are  living  with  our  khid.  In 
this  life  tor/ether  we  are  to  think  very  carefully  about 
the  things  which  tend  to  make  it  profitable  and  pleasant 
to  all.  We  must  obey  the  laws  of  human  nature  Avhich 
not  only  bring  men  together  but  are  also  continually 
operating  to  make  the  life  together  richer,  fairer,  and 
sweeter.  This  is  the  action  of  the  law  of  kindness, 
the  highest  law  of  human  society,  of  life  with  our  kind. 

We  are  wont  to  say  humeri  society  and  human  kind. 
Notice  how  this  word  "  human "  and  the  word  "  hu- 
mane "  are  related.     A  human  being,  an  individual  of 


80  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

the  species  Hovio,  would  be  partially  described  by  tlie 
naturalist  as  au  animal  walking  upright  and  having  two 
hands,  and  a  large  brain  with  many  convolutions.  We 
are  each  of  us  a  portion  of  such  a  "  humanity,"  meaning 
physiological  human  kind,  or  the  species  Homo,  through 
the  possession  of  these  physical  characteristics.  But 
"  humanity  "  means,  specifically,  the  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings proper,  i.  e.  peculiar,  to  mankind,  those  which  dis- 
tinguish us  from  the  lower  animals  more  plainly  than 
do  any  bodily  marks.-'  Most  of  all  it  stands  for  tender- 
ness toward  our  own  kind,  so  that  "  humanity "  and 
"  kindness  "  are,  to  a  certain  degree,  synonymous,  the 
latter  word  having  historically  the  somewhat  wider 
meaning.  "Humane"  is  the  adjective  corresponding 
to  this  last-mentioned  sense  of  the  noun  "  humanity." 
An  old  translator  of  Plutarch  into  English  using  the 
word  in  the  earliest,  literal  sense,  "  of  man,"  speaks  of 
bearing  "  humaue  cases  humanely,"  i.  e.,  beariug  the  lot 
of  man  like  a  man  ! 

The  change  of  signification  which  has  come  upon 
"  kind  "  and  "  human  "  is  one  sign  of  the  great  fact  of 
the  progress  of  man.  Universal  history,  indeed,  is  the 
record  of  man  becoming  more  human,  steadily  working 
out  the  beastly  and  savage  elements  in  his  mingled 
nature,  and  giving  ever  freer  exercise  to  those  elements 
which  are  distinctively  human.  The  humanization  of 
man  in  society  is  the  aim  of  all  that  we  properly  call 
civilization.  Every  step  in  this  process,  which  takes 
mankind  away  from  the  beast  and  the  savage,  in  thought, 
feeling,  and  action,  is  an  improvement,  since  thus  his 
special  nature  is  working  itself  free.  To  humanize  a 
race  is  to  give  it  knowledge  and  art,  a  higher  morality 
and  gentler  manners.  Observe  how  this  word  "  gentle," 
again,  conies  to  mean  what  it  does.    A  "  gentle  "  person 

1  "  Men  that  live  according  to  the  right  rule  and  law  of  reason  live 
but  in  their  own  kind,  as  beasts  do  in  theirs,"  Sir  Thomas  Browne 
says. 


THE  LAW  OF  KINDNESS.  81 

was  originally  one  belonging  to  "  a  good  family,"  one 
"well-born."  Now  people  of  family,  the  well-born, 
among  their  other  advantages  have  more  leisure  than 
most  persons  to  consider  the  smaller  things  of  human 
intercourse  —  manners,  that  is,  and  the  "  minor  morals  " 
—  and  give  them  pleasing  shape.  Manners  with  these 
persons  are  improved ;  they  become  more  gracious  and 
refined,  largely  because  the  conditions  of  life  are  easier 
here  than  those  of  the  majority  of  mankind;  the  well- 
to-do  can  thus  sjjcnd  more  time  and  thought  upon  minor 
matters  in  social  intercourse.  The  manners  of  good, 
or  polite  society  are,  properly,  the  kindest  manners,  be- 
cause they  have  been  the  object  of  much  consideration 
with  a  view  to  making  the  relations  of  men  and  women 
in  refined  society  pleasant  and  agreeable  in  every  way. 
"  Courtesy,"  our  word  for  the  finest  kind  of  manners, 
comes  from  the  "  court "  of  royal  personages  where  the 
greatest  attention  is  usually  paid  to  cultivating  fine 
manners. 

But  politeness  and  courtesy  have  now,  of  course,  no 
necessary  connection  with  kings  or  nobles.  The  law  of 
kindness  requires  consideration  of  others,  in  preference 
to  a  selfish  absorption  in  one's  own  pleasure  or  profit, 
and  such  kindness  is  not  chiefly  dependent  upon  our 
outward  rank.  As  far  as  external  conditions  go,  it  is 
more  easily  cultivated  in  a  state  of  comfort  and  leisure 
than  in  a  state  of  hardship  and  poverty,  but  its  essence 
is  in  the  kind  heart.  True  kindness  does  not  require 
that  we  try  to  suspend  for  any  one  the  fit  operation  of 
the  laws  of  human  life,  or  that  we  excuse  him  from 
obedience,  most  of  all,  to  the  moral  law.  Kindness  does 
not  allow  us  to  be  untrue  in  our  words  or  unjust  in  our 
deeds,  but  it  implies  a  constant  control  over  the  tongue 
and  hand,  so  that  the  spirit-  in  which  we  act  and 
speak  shall  be  gentle  and  considerate  of  the  feelings  of 
all  other  human  beings*  To  speak  the  truth  in  love,  — 
"toldo'justly  while  we  love  the  mercy  that  is  above  all 
sceptred  sway,  —  this  is  the  ideal  of  human  conduct. 


82  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

Naturally,  we  learn  most  easily  how  to  live  in  this 
best  way  through  our  experience  in  our  own  homes. 
There  our  kin  are  our  teachers  in  kindness.  Nothing 
can  surpass  a  mother's  kindness  for  her  children,  or  a 
father's  concern  for  the  happiness  of  his  sons  and 
daughters,  unless  it  be  the  love  of  the  husband  and  wife 
themselves,  united  in  a  true  marriage.  The  love  of  our 
brothers  and  sisters,  the  kind  thoughtfulness  and  affec- 
tionate helpfulness  which  are  the  very  atmosphere .  of  a 
happy  home,  instruct  us  that  the  same  quality  of  mind 
and  heart  will  make  our  intercourse  with  other  human 
beings  better  and  more  humane.  Opportunities  for  for- 
gett ingjoursel ve s,  for  thinking  how  to  do  good,  and  for 
the  doing  of  it,  are  innumerable  in  every  life,  and  the 
character  of  every  person  becomes  stronger,  richer,  and 
more  beautiful,  as  he  improves  these  occasions.  We 
are  not  doing  our  whole  duty  when  we  simply  tell  the 
truth  without  regard  to  the  mode  of  telling  it ;  when  we 
give  other  people  their  rights,  without  considering  the 
manner  in  which  we  regard  these  rights  ;  or  when  we 
have  brought  ourselves  to  obey  every  precept  of  the 
moral  law  in  an  external  way  only.  This  law  is  a  law 
of  life ;  obedience  should  become  a  second  nature,  so 
that  all  its  hardness  and  difficulty  may  pass  away. 

"  Serene  will  be  our  days,  and  bright 
And  happy  will  our  nature  be 
When  love  is  an  unerring-  light 
And  joy  its  own  security." 

The  element  of  beauty  is  needed  in  our  conduct,  as 
elsewhere  in  human  life.  Kindness  supplies  this  grace 
and  charm,  in  that  it  carries  regard  for  others  to  the 
point  of  making  it  a  fine  art.  Nothing  is  more  beauti- 
ful in  human  intercourse  than  purely  unselfish  love,  — 
of  man  and  woman,  of  mother  and  child,  of  brother  and 
sister,  of  whole-hearted  friends.  Beautiful,  too,  is  the 
good  man's  regard  for  all  other  members  of  the  great 
human  family,  when  nothiug  that  is  human  is  alien  to 


THE  LAW  OF  KINDNESS.  83 

his  heart;  when  the  sight  of  the  weak,  the  ignoraut, 
and  the  poor,  reminds  him  that  we  are  all  of  one  primal 
nature,  and  that  the  law  of  kindness  is  the  supreme  law 
for  man. 

The  short  and  easy  way  to  stamp  this  character  of 
beauty  on  our  conduct  is  to  begin  with  the  heart,  out 
of  which  are  "the  issues  of  life."  When  we  think 
clearly,  we  perceive  how  far  beyond  and  above  all  the  dif- 
ferences and  distinctions  between  human  beings  are  the 
great  and  fundamental  likenesses  of  man  to  man,  which 
should  arouse  and  sustain  in  us  all  a  feeling  of  the  com- 
mon brotherhood  of  humanity.  The  single  person  enters 
into  a  larger  life  by  sympathy  with  another.  Man  and 
woman  come  together  in  marriage,  the  closest  union  of 
this  kind,  and  find  strength  and  beauty  in  a  home  where 
love  reigns,  and  family  ties  multiply  the  sweetness  and 
the  power  of  life.  The  same  feeling  can  extend  itself, 
in  various  degrees,  but  in  the  one  form  of  human  kind- 
ness, to  all  the  relations  of  life,  to  soften  and  refine  and 
beautify  human  society. 

The  law  of  kindness  tends  to  put  down  all  "sur- 
vivals "  of  the  beast,  the  primitive  savage,  and  the  bar- 
barian, in  the  individual  and  in  the  world  at  large.  Un- 
kindness  is  injustice  to  one  of  the  same  race  with 
ourselves ;  it  is  untruthfulness  to  the  great  fact  of  our 
common  humanity.  But  as  a  positive  force  of  interest 
in  others  and  sympathy  with  them,  kindness  becomes 
the  finest  justice  and  the  most  delicate  truthful- 
ness. Harshness  is  unjust,  and  cruelty  is  brutal ;  both 
these  opposites  of  kindness  are  unhuman.  But  let  us 
do  a  kindness  to  a  person  whom  we  have  disliked,  and 
what  an  effect  it  has  in  clearing  away  injustice  in  our 
own  mind !  We  often  see  how  false  has  been  our  view 
of  Avhat  we  called  the  facts  of  his  nature.  Human 
kindness  preserves  the  family  and  the  home,  and  makes 
them  fair  and  satisfying.  A  man  and  his  wife  used  often 
to  quarrel,  she  said,  but  now  that  they  kept  "  two  bears  " 


84  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

in  the  house  all  went  happily  :  the  names  of  these  two 
peacemakers  were  Bear  and  Forbear  ! 

Kindness  in  the  form  of  politeness  and  common  cour- 
tesy makes  the  relations  of  men  and  women  outside 
their  own  homes  a  source  of  pleasure  and  happiness, 
helping  on  every  other  good  thing.  Human  kindness 
between  nations  would  abolish  war  and  all  its  horrors. 
Peace  in  the  home  and  in  the  world,  and,  because  of 
peace,  larger  opportunity  for  growth  in  knowledge  and 
beauty  aud  right  and  fulness  of  life  in  every  direction, 
—  this  is  the  result  of  love  fulfilling  every  moral 
la-w.  When  men  act  and  speak  and  think  and  feel  out 
of  a  generous,  merciful,  peaceful,  kindly  spirit,  then 
their  highest  level  here  upon  earth  is  attained,  human 
nature  comes  to  its  finest  flower,  and  the  fullest  fruit- 
age of  life  is  sure. 


NOTES. 

"  The  quality  of  mercy  is  not  strained." 
A  CLASSIC  book  on  courtesy  is  The  Gentleman,  by  George  H. 
Calvert,  full  of  references  to  history  and  literature,  from  Sir 
Philip  Sidney  to  Charles  Lamb.  Dr.  Holmes  defines  good  breed- 
ing as  "  surface  Christianity,"  and  Cardinal  Newman  says  the 
gentleman  is  "  one  who  never  willingly  gave  pain." 

"Moral  life  is  based  on  sympathy  ;  it  is  feeling  for  others, 
working  for  others,  aiding  others,  quite  irrespective  of  any  per- 
sonal good  beyond  the  satisfaction  of  the  social  impulse.  En- 
lightened by  the  intuition  of  our  community  of  weakness,  we 
share  ideally  the  universal  sorrow.  Sufi'ering  humanizes.  Feel- 
ing th^  need  of  mutual  help,  we  are  prompted  by  it  to  labor  for 
others."     (G.  H.  Lewes.) 

Kindness  to  animals  is  distinctively  a  modern  virtue  in  Chris- 
tian countries.  It  is  an  extension  to  the  lower  animals,  espe- 
cially to  those  we  domesticate,  of  the  considerate  treatment  we 
have  first  learned  to  give  to  our  own  species. 

"  I  would  not  enter  on  ray  list  of  friends 
(Though  graced  with  poliahed  maiiuei's  and  fine  sense, 


THE  LAW  OF  KINDNESS.  85 

Yet  lacking  sensibility)  the  man 

Wlio  needlessly  sets  foot  upon  a  worm." 

Read  Rah  and  his  Friends;  such  poems  as  The  Halo,  by  W.  C. 
Gannett,  and  selections  from  the  biographies  of  men,  like  Sir 
Walter  Scott,  fond  of  dogs  and  horses.  See  Miss  Cobbe  on  the 
Education  of  the  Emotions  in  the  Fortnightly  Revieiv,  xliii.  p.  223. 
Lessons  on  j\Ianners,  by  Edith  Wiggin,  is  a  good  handbook  for 
the  teacher.     As  for  kindness  in  charitable  works:  — 

"  That  is  no  true  alms  ■which  the  hand  can  hold ; 
He  gives  only  the  worthless  gold 
Who  gives  from  a  sense  of  duty  ; 
But  he  who  gives  but  a  slender  mite 
And  gives  to  that  which  is  out  of  sight, 
That  thi-ead  of  the  all-sustaining  Beauty 
Which  runs  through  all  and  doth  all  unite,  — 
The  hand  cannot  clasp  the  whole  of  his  alms." 


CHAPTEK  VII. 

THE  GREAT  WORDS  OF  MORALITY. 

In  our  previous  chapters  we  have  studied  the  mean- 
ing of  ''  law  "  in  general,  and  of  the  "  moral  law  "  in  par- 
ticular. "  Duty,"  "  ought,"  "  justice,"  and  "  kindness  " 
we  have  also  explained.  But  there  are  numerous  other 
words  used  very  commonly  in  speaking  of  human  ac- 
tions, such  as  "  right  "  and  "  wrong,"  "  conscience," 
"  virtue,"  and  "  vice,"  which  we  have  not  yet  consid- 
ered. In  every  art  and  in  every  science  a  clear  under- 
standing of  the  exact  meanings  of  the  words  we  use  is 
important.  But  nowhere  is  it  of  more  consequence 
than  Avhen  we  are  speaking  or  writing  about  the  moral 
character  of  actions.  Indeed,  in  discussing  matters  of 
conduct  the  decision  as  to  their  Tightness  or  wrongness 
often  turns  upon  the  definition  we  give  of  "  right  "  and 
"  wrong  "  in  general.  In  this  book  we  are  trying  to 
keep  clear  of  controversies  as  to  the  ultimate  nature  of 
vice  and  virtue,  of  the  morally  good  and  the  morally 
bad,  and  to  remain  upon  the  ground  of  practical  ethics 
where  there  is  a  general  agreement  among  men.  In 
such  a  spirit,  avoiding  refinements  and  subtleties,  let  us 
look  at  some  of  the  words  which  mankind  commonly 
use  in  regard  to  morals. 

In  the  first  place,  however,  what  do  we  mean  pre- 
cisely by  "  moral "  or  "  ethical "  ?  The  two  words  have 
the  same  signification,  the  first  coming  from  the  Latin 
language,  and  the  second  from  the  Greek  ;  both  mean 
"  pertaining  to  the  habits,  manners,  or  customs  of  men." 
Of  course,  not  all  possible  actions  of  human  beings  are 
called  "  moral."     We  eat  and  sleep  and  do  many  other 


THE  GREAT  WORDS  OF  MORALITY.  87 

things  which  all  other  animals  do  as  a  part  of  their  ani- 
mal existence.  These  are  not  immoral  but  unmoral 
acts :  there  is  no  propriety  in  applying  the  words 
"  right  "  and  "  wrong  "  to  them.  We  read  and  study, 
again  ;  we  employ  our  minds  in  many  ways,  and  we  do 
not  think  of  vice  or  virtue  as  fit  words  to  use  about 
what  we  are  doing.  There  is  thus  a  great  deal  of  hu- 
man life  which  lies  outside  of  the  world  of  moral 
distinctions :  our  instinctive  animal  existence,  the 
natural  play  of  the  mind,  and  numerous  powers  of  con- 
scious thought  and  action  have  standards  other  than 
those  of  morals.  We  may  not  judge  a  book,  a  picture, 
or  a  building  by  morals  alone. 

Only  Q.  part  of  all  the  manners  and  custoins  of  men 
do  we  properly  call  moral  or  immoral.  This  part,  evi- 
dently, takes  in  those  actions  which  most  directly  aifect 
the  welfare  of  other  persons.  INIan  in  society  is  the 
subject  of  moral  or  ethical  science,  and  our  actions 
show  themselves  to  be  moral  or  immoral  according  as 
they  tend,  immediately  or  ultimately,  to  the  welfare  or 
to  the  injury  of  other  human  beings.  Eating  my  break- 
fast is  not  a  moral  act  in  itself ;  but  if  I  give  another 
person  poisoned  food  for  his  breakfast,  it  is  a  highly 
immoral  deed  that  I  do.  If  any  act  of  mine  is  plainly 
confined  in  its  consequences  to  myself,  then  its  moral 
quality  is  not  immediately  obvious.  If  every  human 
being  were  out  of  all  relations  to  every  other,  there 
could  be  no  such  science  or  art  as  morals  or  ethics,  for 
"  duties  to  self,"  as  they  are  sometimes  called,  would 
not,  alone,  constitute  such  a  science.  But  there  is  a 
law,  as  we  have  seen,  governing  all  the  many  actual 
relations  of  men  to  one  another,  and  because  we  are 
social  beings  and  live  our  lives  mainly  together,  this 
law,  the  law  of  moi-ality,  is  of  the  very  first  importance 
to  us.  Duty,  ''  the  ought,"  as  we  have  explained,  is  the 
obedience  we  "  owe  "  to  this  law.  But  there  is  a  very 
common  phrase,  "  rights  and  duties."    This  combination 


88  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

indicates  the  social  nature  of  morals.  Our  duties  are 
what  we  owe  to  others  ;  our  rights  are  what  others  owe 
to  us.  Their  rights  are  oiir  duties ;  their  duties  are 
our  rights. 

"  Right ''  (which  comes  from  the  same  root  as  rectus, 
straight)  means,  hrst  of  all,  "  in  accordance!  with  rule 
or  law."  Eighteousness,  or  rightness,  is  equivalent  to 
rectitude,  which  means  going  straight  by  the  rule  or 
'measure.  This  rule  has  come  to  be  for  all  mankind  the 
rule  in  particular  derived  from  the  moral  law  :  right 
means,  therefore,  doing  the  things  which  the  moral  law, 
of  truthfulness  or  kindness  for  instance,  prescribes  to 
be  done.  'If  we  can  find  this  law  and  merely  under- 
stand it  as  we  should  any  other  law  of  nature,  we  are 
intellectually  right,  i.  e.,  correct  in  our  thought ;  if  we 
act  as  it  commands,  we  are  morally  right,  so  far  as  our 
action  is  concerned ;  if  we  obey  it  in  a  spirit  of  glad- 
ness, as  the  inspiring  law  of  our  human  life,  then  we 
are  right,  all  through,  —  mind  and  hand  and  heart  and 
will :  then  we  are  completely  moral  beings. 

. "  Eight "  has  in  it  the  notion  of  straightness,  straight- 
forwardness, directness.  A  "  right  line  "  is  the  straight 
line  between  any  two  points.  Eight  conduct  is  conduct 
tending  .directly  to  social  welfare,  the  good  of  all  em- 
bracing the  good  of  each.  But  Avhen  one's  action  is 
bent  or  swayed  out  of  this  straight  line,  when  it  tends 
to  some  other  mark  than  the  good  of  all,  it  is  ''  wrong," 
i.  e.,  it  is  "wrung  out  of  conformity  with  the  rule  or 
law. 

Now  the  great  occasion  or  cause  of  wrong-doing  in 
the  world  is,  as  we  have  seen,  that  we  are  apt  to  think 
only  of  ourselves  when  we  act.  Our  own  Avelfare  very 
often  so  takes  the  first  place  in  our  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings that  we  care  little,  or  not  at  all,  what  the  conse- 
quences of  our  deeds  may  be  to  other  persons.  There 
are,  in  truth,  many  matters  in  which  we  must  think 
about  our  own  comfort  and  convenience  as  the  impor- 


THE  GREAT  WORDS  OF  MORALITY.  89 

tant  matter,  since  self-help  is  the  best  kind  of  help ;  and 
if  the  thing  we  desire  is  good  for  us,  it  may  be  entirely- 
right  that  we  should  endeavor  to  obtain  it.  But  when 
a  benefit  of  any  kind  is  one  that  may  be  shared,  or  that 
must  be  shared,  in  order  that  no  one  shall  suffer  because 
another  gets  more  than  his  portion,  then  pure  selfhood 
becomes  selfishness,  and  is  wrong.  For  example,  a 
farmer  works  hard  to  make  money  from  his  land :  he 
labors  on  his  own  place,  and  has  his  own  interest,  not 
his  neighbor's,  in  view,  as  he  buys  and  sells  according 
to  the  usual  laws  of  trade.  This  is  right :  there  is  no 
selfishness  about  caring  for  one's  self  in  this  way.  But 
the  farmer  is  bound  to  provide  for  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren, to  see  that  they  have  enough  to  eat,  that  they  are 
well  clothed,  that  the  children  go  to  school,  that  the 
hired  men  receive  fair  wages  and  are  punctually  paid, 
and  that  all  the  benefits  of  his  prosperity,  such  as  it  is, 
are  divided  among  those  who  have  a  just  and  natural 
claim  upon  him.  But  while  the  farmer  is  making 
money,  he  may  compel  his  family  to  fare  poorly  and 
dress  meanly  ;  he  may  keep  his  children  at  work  when 
they  should  have  the  opportunity  to  go  to  school ;  he 
may  "  beat  down  "  the  pay  of  his  workmen  and  delay 
the  payment.  In  all  these  ways,  not  to  speak  of  other 
matters,  he  may  disregard  the  fact  that  we  are  partners 
with  one  another.  Instead  of  going  straight  to  the 
mark  of  the  plain  and  simple  duty  before  him,  he  may 
force  and  complicate  things  into  a  state  of  wrongness 
by  his  selfishness.  The  crooked  line  is  the  proper  em- 
blem of  the  conduct  that  obeys  no  law;  the  straight 
line,  of  the  conduct  that  is  true  to  the  direction  which 
the  law  commands. 

Vice,  a  common  word  in  speaking  of  bad  conduct, 
means,  first  of  all,  a  defect:  it  refers  to  a  deficiency 
in  the  exercise  of  that  power  of  self-control  of  which  we 
have  before  spoken  as  the  root  of  morality  in  the  pri- 
vate person.     One  man  does  not  exert  himself  as  he 


90  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

might  about  his  proj)er  work :  he  has  the  vice  of  idle- 
ness. Auotlier  does  not  control  his  liking  for  intoxi- 
cating liquors,  and  he  falls  into  the  vice  of  intemper- 
ance. A  third  man  may  have  a  violent  or  an  irritable 
disposition  which  he  does  not  control,  and  he  falls  into 
the  vice  of  bad  temper.  So  the  vicious  man  practically 
sets  up  his  own  pleasure  or  wilfulness  as  the  law  by 
which  he  acts.  He  is  not  strong,  but  weak,  in  that  he 
does  not  have  the  mastery  aver  himself  which  full  obe- 
dience to  the  moral  law  reqviires. 

Virtue,  on  the  contrary,  originally  meant  manliness, 
and  especially  the  distinctive  excellence  of  a  man, 
courage.  The  word  always  implies  strength,  and 
when  it  came  to  be  applied  to  conduct,  it  marked  power 
of  will  to  control  one's  self,  according  to  the  law  of 
right.  The  "  cardinal,"  or  chief,  virtues  were  formerly 
said  to  be  justice,  prudence,  temperance,  and  fortitude. 
Underlying  all  these  is  the  notion  of  strength.  Jus- 
tice demands  the  ability  to  put  down  one's  exorbitant 
wishes  and  to  limit  one's  self,  as  well  as  other  persons, 
each  to  his  share.  Prudence  (from  pro-vidence,  looking 
forward)  signifies  a  will-power  which  is  sufficient  to 
curb  our  own  indolence  or  extravagance  or  carelessness 
in  view  of  our  probable  needs  or  interests  in  the  future. 
Temperance  implies  just  such  a  restraint,  such  a  stop- 
ping short  of  excess,  with  a  view  to  the  more  immedi- 
ate consequences.  Fortitude  is  courage,  active  or  pas- 
sive, in  doing  or  bearing.  These  four  "  virtues  "  (from 
the  Latin  vir,  a  man)  are  signs  of  manliness :  they 
belong  to  the  manly  mind  and  the  manly  will.  Injus- 
tice, imprudence,  intemperance,  and  cowardice  are 
equally  marks  of  moral  weakness  in  a  person.  A  train- 
ing in  virtue,  then,  is  like  physical  training  :  its  object 
is  to  give  strength  and  power  of  self-control.  In  one 
case  we  strengthen  the  muscles  by  use  that  they  may 
be  ready  servants  of  the  will  in  time  of  need.  In  the 
other  case  we  strengthen  our  powers  of  judgment  and 


THE  GREAT   WORDS  OF  MORALITY.  91 

self-control  in  small  matters,  so  that  we  may  show  our- 
selves equal  to  emergencies  which  require  the  full 
strength  of  a  man  in  resisting  evil. 

'^  Conscience  "  is  the  word  we  use  to  denote  each  per- 
son's knowledge  of  the  moral  laAV,  or  his  power  of  know- 
ing it  and  passing  judgment  as  to  matters  of  morality. 
Its  meaning,  etymologically,  is  doubtful.  "  Knowing 
with,"  its  two  members  (con-sclo)  signify,  but  "  knowing 
with  "  ivhat  ?  Some  call  it  a  faculty  which  gives  an  im- 
mediate knowledge  of  right  and  wrong,  and  does  not 
need  instruction,  but  only  opportunity  to  speak.  Others 
would  call  it  a  faculty  capable  of  enlightenment  like 
any  other  faculty  of  the  human  mind.  Into  such  dis- 
cussions as  to  the  ultimate  nature  of  conscience  we  have 
no  need  to  enter  here.  The  final  ground  of  right, 
whether  in  utility  or  in  experience  or  in  intuition,  is 
another  point  which  belongs  to  the  theory  of  ethics,  not 
to  the  practical  morality  which  now  concerns  us.  On 
the  main  matters  of  conduct  there  is  virtual  agreement 
among  civilized  men  as  to  what  is  right  and  what  is 
wrong.  W/ii/ this,  finally,  is  right  or  why  that  is  finally 
wrong,  is  another  matter,  on  which  philosophers  differ 
and  dispute.  The  great  majority  of  mankind  are  inter- 
ested only  in  determining  what  to  do,  not  what  to 
think,  in  the  sphere  of  conduct.  It  is  agreed  by  all  i^ 
that  children  need  instruction  and  advice  as  to  right 
and  wrong,  and  a  great  part  of  the  conversation  and 
the  writing  of  grown  people  consists  of  the  giving  of  ad- 
vice or  suggestion  about  moral  matters.  Thus  w^hatever 
our  consciences  may  be,  in  the  last  resort,  we  all  need 
instruction  as  to  the  facts  in  any  case  where  we  have  to 
act,  and  we  need  to  reasofi  clearly  and  logically  from 
these  facts  in  the  light  of  moral  principles  generally  ad- 
mitted. Not  only  is  this  so ;  we  need  to  have  our  inte?'- 
est  in  right-doing,  by  others  and  by  ourselves,  kept  un 
and  quickened  by  thinking  earn^'stly  about  conduct  and 
clearing  our  minds,  and  by  puiifying  and  strengthening 


92  THE  LAWS  OF"  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

our  wills,  so  that  we  shall  understand  and  do  and  love 
the  right.  If  we  are  thus  drawn  toward  the  moral  life 
with  the  full  force  of  our  nature,  it  is  of  little  conse- 
quence how  we  define  conscience,  or  what  our  theory  is 
about  its  origin  in  the  history  of  our  race.  Like  the 
sense  of  beauty,  the  moral  sense  justifies  itself  by  its 
results,  not  by  its  definitions  :  each  aims  at  a  practical 
result,  not  at  the  vindication  of  a  theory.  The  virtuous 
life,  all  will  say,  is  life  in  accordance  with  the  highest 
laws  of  human  nature.  "  Good  "  is,  to  us  human  be- 
ings, whatever  is  fit  or  suitable  for  man ;  moral  good  is 
what  is  fit  or  suitable  for  man  to  do  or  be  in  the  society 
of  his  kind.  The  good  man,  morally  speaking,  is  al- 
ways good  for  something. 


NOTES. 


The  teacher  will  do  well  to  trace  the  natural  history  of  every 
word  that  conveys  a  sense  of  moral  obligation.  "  Should,"  he 
will  find,  for  instance,  is  derived  from  the  Teutonic  root  skal,  to 
owe:  thus  its  meaning  is  radically  the  same  as  that  of  "  ought." 
"Must,"  —  a  frequent  word  in  this  book,  —  is  often  equivalent 
to  "  ought."  One  ouf/ht  to  do  so  and  so  to  attain  an  end  =  one 
must  do  it.  Right  is  noted  as  the  straight  and  obvious  course  in 
these  lines:  — 

"  Beauty  may  be  the  path  to  hig-hest  good. 
And  some  successfully  have  it  pursued. 
Thou,  who  wouldst  follow,  be  well  warned  to  see 
That  way  prove  not  a  curved  road  to  thee. 
The  straightest  way,  perhaps,  which  may  be  sought 
Lies  through  the  great  highway  men  call  I  ought. ''^ 

Right  is  simple,  i.  e.,  without  folds;  wrong  is  often  duplicity, 
full  of  complexities. 

"Man  is  saved  by  love  and  duty,"  said  Amiel;  "societj"-  rests 
upon  conscience,  not  upon  science."  "  A  society  can  be  founded 
only  on  respect  for  liberty  and  justice,"  M.  Taine  declares. 

"  A  right "  can  be  made  out  only  when  it  can  be  proved  to  be 
some  person's  positive  duty;  "  the  right "  is  what  all  ought  to  do, 


THE  GREAT  WORDS  OF  MORALITY.  93 

i.  e.,  what  they  owe  to  one  another,  or  to  society  at  large.  The 
variations  of  conscience  in  different  times  and  countries  (see 
AVake,  The  Evolution  of  Morality)  correspond  to  the  degrees  of 
enlightenment  reached  by  the  human  race  ;  they  prove  that  mo- 
rality is  a  progressive  art,  not  that  right  and  wrong  are  delu- 
sions. Conscience  needs  enlightenment  and  training,  like  all 
other  human  powers.  A  high  stage  of  progTess  is  marked  in 
Carlyle's  saying:  "There  is  in  man  a  higher  than  love  of  happi- 
ness. He  can  do  without  happiness,  and  instead  thereof  find 
blessedness."  llighls  and  Duties  is  a  suggestive  little  manual 
by  Mrs.  K.  G.  Wells,  and  Mr.  Smiles's  Duty  has  an  abundance 
of  illustrative  matter. 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 
HOME. 

Home  is  tlie  name  we  give  to  the  place  where  our 
family  life  is  lived.  The  family,  made  up  of  father, 
mother,  children,  and  other  blood-relatives,  is  the  most 
important  and  most  helpful  of  human  associations.  AYe 
are  born  into  the  family,  and  in  our  years  of  weakness 
we  are  supported  and  our  life  made  stronger  and  better 
by  the  love  and  help  of  father  and  mother,  and  brothers 
and  sisters.  When  we  grow  up,  we  marry  and  form 
other  families,  and  become  ourselves  fathers  and  mo- 
thers, bringing  up  children,  as  we  were  brought  up. 
Home,  "  sweet  home,"  ought  to  be,  as  it  is  to  most  per- 
sons, the  dearest  spot  on  earth,  where  we  find  loving 
words  and  sympathy  and  kind  deeds,  and  where  we  may 
return  these,  and  do  each  his  full  part  in  this  small  and 
close  society,  —  very  powerful  for  good  because  it  is  a 
small  body  and  the  "  life  together  ''  is  here  intimate  and 
continuous.  We  have  certain  hours  for  work  away 
from  our  homes  ;  we  associate  with  others  in  school,  or 
business,  or  travel,  and  in  divers  other  ways ;  but  at 
home  we  not  only  eat  at  the  same  board  and  sleep  under 
the  same  roof,  but  we  know  one  another  and  can  help 
and  love  one  another  day  after  day,  and  year  after  year, 
until  in  the  family  we  die,  as  into  the  family  we  were 
born.  "  Home  "  is  the  sweetest  and  strongest  word 
in  our  language,  because  it  stands  for  so  much  of  love 
and  fellow-service,  for  the  tenderest  and  fairest  side  of 
our  life. 

The  family,  which  makes  the  home,  is  a  natural  insti- 
tution,  the  outgrowth   of  our  deepest  human   nature. 


HOME.  95 

The  love  of  man  and  woman  which  brings  them  together 
as  husband  and  wife  comes  next  to  the  instinct  of  self- 
preservation  in  its  universality  and  power.  It  is  the 
foundation  of  the  family,  and  if  we  follow  it  along  its 
course  of  development  and  refinement  in  the  civilized 
countries  of  to-day,  we  find  the  virtues,  that  is,  the 
strengths  and  the  excellences,  which  go  to  make  the 
true  and  perfect  home. 

The  husband  and  father  is  the  natural  head  of  tlie 
family  ;  on  him  it  depends  for  its  support.  He  used  to 
have  in  ancient  times  even  the  power  of  life  and  death 
over  his  children.  But  the  power  which  he  now  has  is 
based  on  right  and  reason.  The  wife  and  mother  is  his 
friend  and  dear  companion  and  constant  helper.  On  her 
more  than  on  him,  in  the  natural  course  of  things,  the 
daily  care  of  the  children  rests.  To  father  and  mother, 
then,  the  boys  and  girls  of  the  house  should  look  up 
with  respect  and  love  as  older  and  more  experienced 
than  themselves,  and  thus  able  to  teach  and  guide  them 
in  many  things  of  which  they  are  ignorant  and  incapa- 
ble. The  first  thing  necessary  to  make  a  happy  home  is 
cheerful  obedience  paid  by  children  to  their  parents, 
who  are  providing  them  with  food  and  clothing  and 
shelter  and  education,  and  who  have  no  greater  desire 
than  to  see  their  children  growing  up  to  be  good  and 
intelligent  men  and  women.  Children  in  their  younger 
years  can  return  but  little  for  the  irameasurable  love 
and  help  which  their  fathers  and  mothers  delight  to 
bestow  upon  them.  But  they  may  make  life  pleasanter 
for  their  parents  by  showing  a  cheerful  and  contented 
spirit,  by  returning  the  love,  and  doing  the  little  they 
can  to  aid  in  the  daily  work  of  the  family  life.  In 
running  errands,  in  learning  to  help  itself  about  dress- 
ing, in  tending  the  baby,  for  instance,  the  young  child 
may  exhibit  a  loving  and  helpful  spirit,  which  will 
make  it  still  dearer  to  the  heart  of  father  and  mother. 

At  home,  more  than  aiiy where  else,  obedience  to  those 


96  THE  LxYWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

who  have  a  natural  right  to  command  should  be  ready 
and  cheerful.  Our  parents  are  older  and  wiser  than  we  ; 
they  give  us  directions  only  for  our  own  good,  and  have 
our  happiness  always  in  view.  Until  we  can  see  and 
understand  the  reasons  why  they  order  us  to  do  this 
or  that,  we  should  do  it  becatise  they  have  ordered  it. 
r'ather  and  mother  are  the  law-makers  and  law-executors 
for  the  children,  who  should  obey  as  the  sailor  on  a  ves- 
sel at  once  obeys  the  captain  or  the  pilot,  as  the  soldier 
gives  instant  attention  to  the  command  of  his  officer, 
and  as  the  hired  man  at  A\^ork  follows  the  directions  of 
his  employer.  Father  and  mother  are  acting  for  the 
good  of  the  whole  family.  The  children  must  be  content 
to  obey,  and  take  their  own  share,  and  sliould  not  make 
life  hard  for  their  parents  by  disobedience,  stubborn- 
ness, idleness,  or  other  forms  of  selfishness.  The  Golden 
Eule  would  teach  children  to  remember  constantly  how 
much  father  and  mother  are  doing  for  them,  not  only  in 
the  matters  which  any  one  can  see,  such  as  care  for 
their  health  and  comfort,  but  also  in  training  them  to 
become  honest  and  upright  men  and  women.  This  is 
the  greatest  thing  that  our  parents  can  do  for  us,  to 
bring  us  up  in  habits  of  self-control  and  truthfulness 
and  honor  and  kindness,  so  that  as  we  grow  older,  we 
can  be  trusted  to  Avalk  by  oiirselves  and  to  do  the  right 
because  we  kno"w  it  and  prize  it,  not  simply  because 
we  are  ordered  to  do  it. 

But  this  doing  of  the  right  is,  quite  naturally,  what 
children  often  like  tery  little  or  dislike  very  much. 
They  want  to  have  their  own  way,  whether  it  is  the 
right  and  reasonable  way,  or  not.  They  do  not  always 
"  feel  like  "  going  to  school,  or  helping  their  parents  or 
brothers  and  sisters  in  some  small  way.  But  home 
rests  upon  law  and  love.  The  father,  who  sees  so 
much  more  clearly  than  the  unwilling  boy  what  is  right 
and  just  and  fair  and  reasonable,  will  make  him  "mind," 
by  force,  if  necessary.     The  great  law  of  the  home  is 


HOME.  97 

helpfulness  and  kindness  from  each  to  all  and  from  all  to 
each  ;  it  is  always  well  with  us  if  the  law  is  enforced 
whenever  we  do  not  cheerfully  obey  it.  Boys  and  girls 
are  growing  up  to  become  fathers  and  mothers  them- 
selves, in  their  turn,  and  they  cannot  learn  too  soon 
that  each  must  be  ready  and  willing  to  do  his  own  part 
in  the  Avork  of  life,  and  be  satisfied  with  his  share  of 
good  and  pleasant  things,  helping  and  helped,  happy 
and  making  others  happy. 

There  should  be  no  other  place  like  home  to  us. 
There  is  no  other  place  wh'ere  we  can  show  so  plainly 
what  we  are,  —  kind  and  true  and  helpful,  or  selfish 
and  false  and  careless  of  ovir  duty.  ]\[oral  training  be- 
gins here,  and  throughout  life  it  centres  here.  When  a 
man  is  a  good  son  or  father  or  husband,  he  is  likely  to 
be  a  true  man  in  business  and  in  the  larger  life  in  gen- 
eral, beyond  his  home.  We  need,  then,  to  think  very 
carefully  about  our  duties  at  home  that  we  may  be 
sources  of  sweetness  and  light  there.  In  the  right  and 
true  home  we  love  and  help  one  another  without  asking 
a  return,  and  from  no  selfish  motive  whatever ;  begin- 
ning with  the  simplest  forms  of  duty  we  rise  to  the  fair- 
est heights  of  love  through  self-forgetfulness  in  kindly 
service. 

The  virtues  of  home  are  the  qualities  Avhich  tend  to 
make  it  strong  in  a  mutual  helpfulness  of  all  the  family 
circle,  and  sweet  and  pleasant  in  a  beautiful  spirit  of 
love.  To  serve,  not  to  be  served ;  to  give,  not  to  re- 
ceive ;  to  help  and  bless  continually  by  word  and 
example,  —  this  makes  firm  the  family  bond,  and  keeps 
home  as  it  should  be,  the  dearest  place  on  earth.  The 
virtues,  the  strength  and  the  excellence  of  home  lie 
deep  in  justice  and  right  and  truth ;  but  nowhere  else 
can  we  so  love  and  be  loved,  nowhere  else  does  duty 
so  easily  pass  into  affection.  Home  should,  then,  be  a 
sacred  j)lace  to  us.  We  do  well  to  remember  the  Lares 
and  Penates,  as  the  old  Romans  called  the  household 


98  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

gods.  Their  images  were  in  etery  house ;  a  perpetual 
fire  was  kept  on  tlie  heavtli  in  their  lionor ;  on  the  table 
the  salt-cellar  stood  for  them,  and  the  firstlings  of  the 
fruit  were  laid,  and  every  meal  was  considered  as,  in  a 
sense,  a  sacrifice  to  them.  When  one  of  the  family 
came  home  after  absence,  he  saluted  the  Penates  as 
well  as  the  family,  and  thanked  them  for  his  safe  re- 
turn. So  we  should  consider  our  home  holy  ground,  — 
too  holy  for  wrong  or  vice  to  tread,  —  a  place  sacred  to 
love  and  duty.  Through  these  virtues  home  is  deeply 
helpful  to  our  best  life  beyond  the  family  border. 


NOTES. 


There  is  a  considerable  literature  on  the  origin  and  develop- 
ment of  the  family  in  human  history.  Such  a  book  as  E.  B.  Ty- 
ler's Anthropology  (in  the  closing  chapter  on  Society)  will  be  suf- 
ficient for  most  uses.  It  is  of  vastly  more  consequence  to  study 
family  life  in  its  highest  excellence  to-day  than  to  trace  its  ani- 
mal beginnings.  Ethics  is  concerned  more  with  what  ought  to 
be  than  with  what  is  or  what  has  been;  at  the  same  time,  a 
knowledge  of  the  past  and  the  present  is  necessary  to  any  wise 
attempt  to  shape  the  future.  Herbert  Spencer,  in  his  Justice, 
luai'ks  this  fundamental  difference  between  family  ethics  and 
state  ethics :  "  Within  the  family  group  most  must  be  given  where 
least  is  deserved,  if  desert  is  measured  by  worth.  Contrariwise, 
after  maturity  is  reached  benefit  must  vary  directly  as  worth; 
worth  being  measured  by  fitness  to  the  conditions  of  existence." 

The  monogamous  family  is  the  form  under  whicli  modern  civ- 
ilized man  obeys  the  imperious  instinct  which  bids  the  race  pre- 
serve itself.  Self-preservation,  in  its  broadest  sense,  is  the  com- 
panion-instinct. The  dictates  of  both  are  obeyed  in  the  close 
cooperation  of  the  family,  where  the  most  exigent  duties  are  ren- 
dered easy  by  the  strong  affections  naturally  engendered.  The 
monogamous  family,  Goethe  said,  is  man's  greatest  conquest 
over  the  brute;  it  rests  not  upon  mere  animal  inclination,  but 
upon  the  most  constant  obedience  to  duty,  —  an  obedience  ren- 
dered easy  and  happy  by  use  and  love. 


HOME.  99 

Some  classic  poems  of  home  are  the  "  Cotter's  Saturday- 
Night  ; "  Cowper's  "  Winter  Evening  ;  "  Wordsworth's  lines  to 
tiie  lark,  "  Ethereal  minstrel,  pilgrim  of  the  sky ;  "  and  Whittier's 
"  Snow  Bound."  Three  good  books  are  Home  Life,  by  J.  F.  W, 
Ware  ;  Home  Teaching,  by  E.  A.  Abbott;  and  The  Duties  of 
Women,  by  F.  P.  Cobbe.  The  pamphlet  lessons  on  Home  Life, 
by  JVli'S.  Susan  P.  Lesley,  are  suggestive. 


X.OS 


^^GBT-^' 


CHAPTEE  IX. 
WORK. 

Man  is  born  to  work  and  employ  his  powers  of  body 
and  mind  for  good  ends.  That  we  have  strength  is  a 
sign  that  we  were  intended  to  nse  it  in  order  to  preserve 
our  life  and  make  it  comfortable  through  our  exertions. 
That  one  may  eat  and  drink,  have  clothing  and  shelter, 
get  an  education,  own  a  house,  be  able  to  travel,  or  enjoy 
life  in  any  one  of  a  thousand  ways,  he  must  work,  or 
some  one  must  work  for  him.  No  human  being  is  free 
from  the  necessity  or  the  duty  of  working  and  making 
use  of  his  natural  powers. 

Now  all  work  has  its  conditions  of  success,  and  these 
demand  certain  qualities  which  we  will  call  the  virtues 
of  work.  They  are  such  excellences  of  character  as 
Industry,  Punctuality,  Orderliness,  Intelligence,  and 
Economy.  Taking  a  general  view  of  all  kinds  of  labor, 
we  see  that  to  do  any  work  well  and  succeed  in  gaining 
a  good  result,  we  must  comply  with  these  natural  moral 
conditions ;  if  we  will  not,  then  we  fail,  whatever  our 
other  virtues  may  be.  As  each  one  of  us  grows  up  and 
takes  to  some  special  kind  of  business  to  support  him- 
self and  those  dependent  on  him,  he  is  obliged  to  learn 
the  proper  ways  of  doing  things,  whether  it  be  farming, 
or  carpentering,  or  teaching,  or  practising  law,  for  in- 
stance. Each  pursuit  has  to  be  learned  by  itself,  hav- 
ing its  special  works  and  needs.  One  person  must  live 
on  a  farm  and  work  under  a  farmer  to  learn  agriculture ; 
another  must  go  into  a  printing-office  and  learn  his 
"  case  "  if  he  would  be  a  compositor ;  a  third  must  go 
to  college  and  a  professional  school  to  learn  medicine  or 


WORK.  101 

law.  But  in  all  these  directions  we  find  work  lias  its 
general  laws,  the  same  everywhere,  and  we  cannot  begin 
too  soon  to  recognize  them  and  obey  them,  whatever  we 
are  doing. 

I.  We  must  be  industrious.  This  means  that  we 
must  be  willing  and  ready  each  of  us  to  do  at  least  the 
share  of  work  that  comes  to  him,  at  home,  in  the  school- 
room, or  in  business.  We  must  learn  to  like  work,  if 
we  do  not  naturally  enjoy  it,  by  working,  and  to  rejoice 
in  the  fact  that  we  are  accomplishing  something  in  this 
world.  We  have  to  form  a  habit,  by  practice,  of  steady, 
patient,  and  persevering  labor.  We  must  have  intervals 
for  rest  and  play  or  recreation,  but  while  we  work  we 
should  work  with  our  might,  and  while  we  play,  let  us 
play ;  work  and  play  are  successful  and  reach  their  aim 
only  when  so  taken.  If  we  idle  when  we  should  be 
working,  some  one  else  must  do  the  work  that  we  should 
have  done,  and  thus  the  fundamental  rule,  "each  his 
part,"  is  violated.  Pure  idleness  is  shirking  one's  duty 
as  a  soldier  deserts  his  regiment.;^  Idling  over  one's 
work,  "scamping"  it,  is  unjust  to  those  who  employ  us, 
and  naturally  leads  to  our  discharge?)  Into  what  we  are 
doing  we  should  put  our  whole  strength ;  if  disagree- 
able work  is  before  us  we  must  learn  not  to  be  concerned 
about  the  disagreeableness  and  in  time  the  task  will  be- 
come easier  and  less  irksome.  The  first  law  of  each 
place  of  work  is  work !  School  is  the  place  to  study 
in ;  the  blacksmith's  shop,  the  cotton-mill,  the  shipyard, 
are  places  in  which  to  use  one's  hand  and  eye  in  steady 
labor  ;  let  us,  then,  do  the  head-work  or  the  hand-work 
faithfully. 

II.  Most  of  the  work  that  men  do  must  be  done  at 
fixed  times,  if  it  is  to  be  done  well.  There  must  be  an 
hour  for  opening  the  shop  or  the  factory  or  the  school, 
and  at  this  time  the  workers  must  attend,  for  "time  is 
money  "  to  all  who  work.  Punctuality,  being  true  to 
the  point  of  time,  is  one  of  the  first  of  business  vir- 


102  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

tues.  The  hour  is  set  for  beginning  the  clay's  work,  and 
we  are  to  be  paid  for  the  day's  time.  \lt  we  are  late  in 
arriving  at  work,  we  are  not  performing  our  part  of  the 
agreement,  and  are  thus  doing  wrong.  Business  of 
every  kind  must  have  its  time  set  for  beginning  and 
ending,  and  time  has  more  and  more  value  as  men 
become  more  civilized.  So  we  should  imitate  in  our 
human  aifairs  the  punctuality  shown  by  the  tides  and 
the  changes  of  the  moon  and  even  the  comets,  whose  ap- 
pearance is  foretold  by  astronomers,  ages  beforehand,  to 
the  minute.  When  "  on  time,"  the  school  opens  with 
all  the  pupils  in  their  seats  at  the  fixed  hour,  and  the 
lessons  and  study  begin  at  once.  The  school  work  is  not 
hindered  and  delayed  by  Fred  or  Mary  lagging  behind, 
and  no  one  loses  the  whole  or  part  of  an  exercise^  We 
make  engagements  with  one  another  to  meet  at  certain 
places,  to  do  certain  things,  to  deliver  goods,  it  may  be, 
to  join  in  all  sorts  of  enterprises.  Everywhere  "  punc- 
tuality is  the  soul  of  business,"  and  the  unpunctual  man 
will  not  be  tolerated  long  in  any  direction.  The  railroad 
train  will  not  delay  for  him,  and  men  who  have  business 
with  him  will  not  wish  to  continue  it  if  he  wastes  their 
time  by  keeping  them  waiting.  (In  all  our  dealings  with 
each  other,  in  which  there  is  any  question  of  time, 
respect  and  courtesy  demand  that  we  be  on  time,  "  pat 
betwixt  too  early  and  too  late.)' 

III.  Orderliness  is  necessary  to  success  in  business. 
There  must  not  only  be  a  time  for  everything  to  begin 
and  to  end,  but  there  must  also  be  a  place  for  every- 
thing. In  a  well-managed  carpenter's  shop,  for  exam- 
ple, each  saw  and  hammer  and  file  has  its  hook  or  nail 
or  slot  where  it  belongs.  When  needed  it  is  taken 
from  that  place,  and  when  it  has  been  used  it  is  re- 
turned there.  No  time  is  then  wasted  in  looking  for  it 
here  and  there,  as  in  a  shop  where  the  workmen  are 
slack  and  careless. 

The  orderly  workman  begins  at  the  beginning  of  his 


WORE.  103 

work :  he  keeps  to  one  job  at  a  time,  so  far  as  he  can, 
luitil  it  is  finished :  then  he  takes  up  another.  He  ar- 
ranges his  work  beforehand  in  such  order  that  it  will 
require  the  least  outlay  of  time  and  strength  to  do  it 
well.  He  has  his  mind  on  his  business  ;  all  his  energy 
and  intelligence  and  skill  he  directs  wisely,  so  as  to 
procure  the  largest  and  best  result. 

IV.  Not  only  should  every  worker  be  as  methodical 
and  sj'stematic  as  possible,  for  his  own  good  and  the 
good  of  all,  skill  is  a  duty  for  him.  Here  is  a  certain 
thing  to  do,  to  raise  a  crop,  or  build  a  house,  or  manage 
a  railroad.  Since  man  is  an  intelligent  being  and  can 
know,  if  he  will,  many  of  the  causes  and  ways  of  things, 
the  farmer,  the  builder,  and  the  locomotive  engineer  are 
bound  to  understand  their  business :  each  should 
study  persistently  the  nature  of  the  forces  and  the 
materials  with  which  he  has  to  deal,  and  acquaint  him- 
self practically  with  the  methods  that  other  men  have 
used  to  attain  the  end  he  is  seeking  himself.  The  best 
way  of  doing  a  thing  does  not  come  by  chance  to  one 
who  is  ignorant  and  careless  ;  it  comes  to  those  who 
use  their  eyes  and  ears  and  their  whole  minds,  carefully 
and  patiently.  The  successful  worker  is  the  one  who 
concentrates  his  full  power  on  the  task  in  hand.  He 
wishes  to  do  the  most  good  work  with  the  largest  and 
best  result  inside  of  a  given  time  and  in  the  most  eco- 
nomical manner.  How  to  do  this  is  an  affair  requiring 
thought.  So  to  our  virtues  of  industry  and  punctuality 
and  order  and  economy,  we  need  to  add  all  the  know- 
ledge of  our  occupation  that  keen  observation  and  study 
of  books  or  life  can  give  us. 

Intelligence  is  a  duty,  as  well  as  perseverance,  for 
everybody.  Xot  until  we  reach  the  limit  of  possible 
knowledge  or  training  can  we  say  that  we  have  done 
our  full  duty,  as  intellectual  beings,  to  the  work  that 
lies  before  us.  "  The  very  true  beginning  of  wisdom  is 
the  desire  of  discipline."     The  power  and  ability  that 


104  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

we  liave  by  nature  are  very  well,  but  to  be  of  much  use 
or  profit  in  the  world,  they  must  be  trained  :  they 
must  come  and  submit  themselves  to  learn  the  virtues 
of  Avork.  Our  human  society  stands  firm  because  of  the 
immense  amount  of  patient  work  that  is  done  day  after 
day  by  millions  of  workers  of  all  kinds  ;  and  it  advances 
in  knowledge  and  beauty  and  comfort  as  this  work  be- 
comes more  moral  and  more  intelligent.  The  idle,  the 
careless,  the  disorderly,  the  unwilling-to-learn  are  a 
burden  on  the  industrious,  the  careful,  the  orderly,  and 
the  intelligent ;  and  each  one  should  resolve  not  to 
be  such  a  burden,  but,  by  complying  with  the  laws  of 
good  work,  do  his  own  manly  part,  and  so  have  a  right 
to  enjoy  his  own  share. 


NOTES. 


There  is  no  lack  of  inspiring  examples  to  do  our  best  work  in 
the  lives  of  the  great  men  of  our  owu  generation,  of  whom  the 
newspaper,  the  monthly  magazine,  and  contemporary  books  tell 
us.  Perhaps  the  most  forcible  instruction  from  biography  in 
the  virtues  of  work  is  based  upon  the  achievements  of  living 
men.  Their  word  has  often  telling  power,  as  when  Mr.  Edison, 
asked  for  advice  how  to  succeed,  answered:  "Don't  look  at  the 
clock,"  i.  e.,  forget  yourself  in  your  work,  be  possessed  by  it. 

Work  is  always  to  be  disassociated  from  worry;  see  A.  K.  H. 
B.  on  A  Great  Evil  of  Modern  Times. 

"  One  lesson,  Nature,  let  me  learn  of  thee, 
Of  toil  unsevered  from  tranqaillity." 

On  the  other  hand :  — 

"  Rest  is  not  quitting 

The  busy  career ; 
Rest  is  the  fitting' 

Of  self  to  its  sphere." 

Read  from  Whittier's  "  Songs  of  Labor;  "  Captains  of  Industry, 
by  James  Parton,  two  series;  J.  F.  Clarke  and  .1.  S.  Blackie  on 
Self-Culture;  and  Blessed  he  Drudgery,  by  W.  C.  Gannett  (it  is 


WOBK.  105 

"the  secret  of  all  culturef  he  says).  "  Idleness,"  says  old  Burton, 
"  the  bane  of  body  and  mind,  the  nurse  of  naughtiness,  the  chief 
author  of  all  mischief."  "Labor  is  man's  great  function;  the 
hardest  work  in  the  world  is  to  do  nothing."      (Dr.  Dewey.) 

"  There  is  a  perennial  nobleness,  and  even  sacredness,  in  work. 
Were  he  never  so  benighted,  forgetful  of  his  high  calling,  there 
is  always  hope  in  a  man  that  actually  and  earnestlj'  works;  in 
idleness  alone  is  there  perpetual  despair.  Work,  never  so  mam- 
monish, mean,  is  in  communication  with  Nature;  the  real  desire 
to  get  work  done  will  itself  lead  one  more  and  more  to  truth,  to 
Nature's  appointments  and  regulations,  which  are  truth.  All 
true  work  is  sacred;  in  all  true  work,  were  it  but  true  hand- 
labor,  there  is  something  of  divineness.  Labor,  wide  as  the 
earth,  has  its  summit  in  heaven."      (Carlyle.) 

Work  is  of  the  mind  as  well  as  of  the  hand;  the  tendency  of 
civilization  is  set  forth  by  Sir  Thomas  More:  — 

"  The  Utopians,  when  nede  requireth,  are  liable  to  abide  and 
sufPer  much  bodelie  laboure;  els  they  be  not  greatly  desirous  and 
fond  of  it;  but  in  the  exercise  and  studie  of  the  mind  they  be 
never  wery.  .  .  .  For  whil,  in  the  institution  of  that  weale  pub- 
lique,  this  end  is  onelye  and  chiefely  pretended  and  mynded, 
that  what  time  may  possibly  be  spared  from  the  necessary  occu- 
pacions  and  affayres  of  the  commen  welth,  all  that  the  citizeins 
should  withdraw  from  the  bodely  service  to  the  free  libertye  of 
the  mind  and  garnishinge  of  the  same.  For  herein  they  sup- 
pose the  felicitye  of  this  liffe  to  consiste." 


CHAPTER  X. 
THE  LAW  OF  HONOR. 

The  moral  law,  we  have  seen,  is  the  law  which  de- 
clares the  proper  relations  of  human  beings  to  each 
other  in  personal  conduct.  Like  every  other  natural 
law,  it  is  disclosed  to  us  by  study  and  observation  of 
the  beings  whom  it  governs.  It  governs  them  because 
it  is  a  part  of  their  nature,  which  they  cannot  escape. 
Man  is  a  social  being,  and  if  he  would  live  in  society  as 
he  desires,  he  must  obey  the  laws  of  the  social  life  :  of 
these  laws  the  moral  law  is  a  most  important  part.  A 
portion  of  it  is  written  down  in  the  statute  law  of  the 
land,  and  is  carried  into  effect  against  wrong-doers  by 
courts  and  police  and  prisons. 

Another  part  is  recognized  in  this  or  that  country  as 
binding  on  all ;  but  men  do  not  judge  it  expedient  to 
pass  laws  concerning  it.  A  power  that  Ave  call  "  p\;blic 
opinion  "  enforces  certain  duties,  such  as  the  education 
of  a  man's  children  according  to  his  means,  without 
legal  penalties.  The  law  of  the  land  obliges  every  par- 
ent to  send  his  children  to  school  so  many  weeks  in  the 
year ;  in  the  State  of  Massachusetts  this  must  be  done 
up  to  the  age  of  fourteen.  This  is  all  that  the  legisla- 
ture, or  the  State,  thinks  it  wise  to  attempt  in  the  way 
of  obliging  all  parents  to  educate  their  children.  But 
when  a  man  is  amply  able  to  send  his  children  to  the 
high  school  or  to  college,  and  they  wish  to  go,  public 
opinion  says  that  he  ought  to  send  them  ;  and  so  much 
■do  men,  in  general,  care  for  the  good  opinion  of  their 
fellow-men,  that  children  not  rarely  receive  this  further 
education  when  the  parents  themselves  do  not  admit 


THE  LA  W  OF  HONOR.  107 

the  intellectual  need  of  it.  Public  opinion,  is,  however, 
a  very  variable  thing,  and  it  often  represents  a  sort  of 
compromise  between  all  kinds  and  degrees  of  private 
opinions,  when  it  concerns  a  moral  question.  There 
must  be  some  persons  whose  opinion  is  worth  more 
than  that  of  others  on  a  point  of  right  and  wrong,  just 
as  there  are  on  a  matter  of  art  or  science.  These  per- 
sons every  one  will  recognize  as  the  honorable  people, 
those  who  live  according  to  the  moral  law  of  honor. 

I.  There  are  two  very  opposite  senses  in  which  a  per- 
son may  be  "  a  law  to  himself."  A  man  may  be  willing 
and  ready  to  defy  and  disobey  the  moral  law  whenever 
and  wherever  he  thinks  he  can  do  so  safely.  If  the 
offence  he  has  in  mind  is  one  against  the  written  law, 
he  will  commit  it  in  case  he  thinks  himself  sure  not  to 
be  found  out,  or  in  case  he  cares  less  for  the  shame  of 
the  punishment  than  for  the  advantage  to  be  gained 
from  the  crime.  This  man's  law  is  his  own  self-interest, 
or  the  gratification  of  his  passions,  whether  for  his  in- 
terest or  not.  He  will  care  little  for  public  opinion  in 
respect  to  matters  of  which  the  law  says  nothing.  So 
he  will  lie  and  cheat  and  steal  and  break  his  promises 
whenever  he  considers  it  to  be  for  his  own  advantage. 
He  will  rob  and  do  personal  violence,  perhaps  even 
commit  murder,  if  he  considers  himself  very  likely  to 
escape  punishment.  He  thus  puts  himself  outside  the 
moral  law  which  declares  these  deeds  wrong  in  them- 
selves, and  makes  his  own  will  his  law.  But  such  con- 
duct is  directed  against  the  very  life  of  human  society, 
which  would  go  to  pieces  if  it  were  practised  to  any 
great  extent.  Therefore  these  dangerous  classes,  the 
open  enemies  of  order  and  civilization  and  morality, 
must  be  kept  down.  Laws  are  passed  against  them  : 
the  constable  and  the  policeman,  the  criminal  courts, 
the  jails  and  the  prisons,  and  the  gallows  in  the  last 
resort,  are  employed  against  these  savages  and  barba- 
rians who  are  survivals  from  the  times  before  mo- 
rality. 


108  THE  LAWS   OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

Other  enemies  of  morality  are  those  men  who  are 
more  crafty  and  prey  on  their  fellow-men  by  taking 
advantage  of  the  imperfections  of  the  statute  law  to  de- 
fraud and  do  any  other  wrong  which  they  think  for 
their  own  interest.  They  do  not  kill,  or  rob  on  the 
highway  ;  but  they  make  war  on  their  kind  by  craft. 
Moralit}^  is  to  them  simply  an  outside  restraint :  they 
cannot  be  trusted  to  do  right  when  to  do  wrong  would 
be  for  their  own  profit.  Both  these  classes,  the  violent 
and  the  crafty,  are  "  a  law  to  themselves  "  in  the  bad 
sense  that  they  reject  all  law  but  their  own  will. 

II.  At  the  other  extreme  in  human  society  stand 
those  men  and  women  who  are  a  lavr  to  themselves 
in  the  good  sense  of  the  phrase.  They  see  that  all  the 
laws  which  mankind  has  ever  made  are  but  clumsy  and 
imperfect  attempts  to  carry  out  the  full  moral  law  as 
the  highest  minds  and  the  best  hearts  perceive  and  feel 
it.  They  do  what  they  know  to  be  just,  not  because 
the  authorities  will  otherwise  punish  them,  but  because 
they  realize  that  justice  is  the  one  fit  thing  for  men  to 
do  to  one  another.  They  keep  the  peace  because  they 
love  peace  and  the  things  which  peace  brings.  They 
tell  the  truth  becaiise  they  wish  to  live  themselves  and 
to  have  others  live,  at  all  times,  in  a  real  world ;  their 
word  does  not  need  to  be  supported  by  an  oath,  —  it  is 
always  to  be  relied  upon.  Their  verbal  promises  are  as 
good  as  written  contracts  made  before  witnesses  and 
under  penalty.  They  pay  regard  to  every  known  right 
of  others  because  they  feel  that  we  are  members  one  of 
another  in  society,  and  that  "  no  man  ever  hurt  himself 
save  through  another's  side." 

To  live  in  this  way  is  to  live  under  the  law  of 
honor.  Every  honorable  man  feels  bound  to  live  up  to 
his  fullest  knowledge  of  right,  without  regard  to  the 
statute  law  or  to  public  opinion,  which  are  satisfied  with 
a  lower  standard.  He  is  very  sure  that  both  are,  and 
must  be,  imperfect,  and  that  his  duty  is  to  remedy  their 


THE  LAW  OF  HONOR.  109 

imperfections  and  to  show  in  liis  own  practice  a  nearer 
approacli  to  what  is  demanded  by  the  full  moral  law. 
His  own  enlightened  conscience  is  his  guide  :  it  tells 
him  to  square  his  conduct  not  by  the  letter  of  morality, 
but  by  its  spirit.  "  Conscientiousness  "  means  having 
a  delicate  conscience  and  paying  instant  heed  to  it,  in 
small  things  as  in  great  things.  To  be  conscientious, 
to  be  high-minded,  to  be  magnanimous,  to  be  honorable, 
—  these  are  one  and  the  same  thing :  the  words  mark 
the  person  to  whom  morality  has  become  real  and  vital. 
The  conscientious  are  truthful  in  the  extreme  degree ; 
the  magnanimous  do  nothing  mean  by  taking  advantage 
of  the  weakness  or  the  mistakes  of  others  ;  the  honor- 
able are  themselves  the  highest  moral  law  incarnate. 
The  essence  of  honor  is  in  fixing  one's  eye  upon  the  re- 
sult to  character  of  any  action  and  then  acting  as  self- 
respect  and  kindness  dictate.  To  follow  the  law  of 
honor  is  the  ideal  of  morality ;  and  no  one  desiring  to 
live  the  right  life  should  be  satisfied  until  he  values  the 
moral  life  for  itself  as  the  highest  and  best  expression 
of  refined  human  nature :  then  he  is  one  of  the  truly 
honorable  of  the  earth. 

Any  practice  that  is  dishonorable,  however  common, 
bears  its  condemnation  in  itself :  it  must  disappear  be- 
fore a  more  active  moral  sense,  a  better  instructed  pub- 
lic opinion,  or  more  thorough-going  legislation.  Every 
honorable  man  has  the  duty  laid  upon  him  of  raising 
the  standard  of  morality  in  his  business  or  profession. 
There  are  tricks  in  every  trade  which  do  not  cease  to 
be  evil  because  they  are  common ;  there  are  offences 
against  truth  in  every  profession,  which  are  none  the 
less  wrong  because  they  are  nearly  universal.  Morality 
and  business,  honor  and  trade,  must  bo  kept  together. 
No  man  is  justified  in  saying  to  his  conscience,  prescrib- 
ing the  law  of  honor,  what  Frederick  the  Great  used  to 
say  to  his  people  demanding  a  reform  :  "  You  may  say 
what  you  like  :  I  will  do  what  I  like." 


110  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

A  reputation  for  honorable  dealing  has  a  high  busi- 
ness value :  honor  pays  in  the  commercial  sense,  if  a 
man  will  trust  in  it,  in  the  long  run,  if  not  immediately. 
When  the  farmer  "  tops  off "  his  barrels  of  apples  or 
potatoes,  or  his  boxes  of  berries  ;  when  the  grocer  sells 
oleomargarine  for  butter ;  when  the  tailor  palms  off  an 
ill-made  suit  of  clothes  upon  a  near-sighted  person ; 
when  the  manufacturer  sells  shoddy  for  woollens,  they 
are  short-sighted.  Steady  custom,  cannot  be  kept  by 
such  tricks.  A  reputation  for  honorable  dealing  is  of 
more  value  than  all  that  can  be  made  by  occasional  im- 
position. 

But  honor  pays  in  a  much  higher  sense.  One  of 
the  surest  foundations  of  morality  is  a  just  self-respect. 
A  man  who  has  lost  his  self-respect  cannot  be  trusted : 
he  cannot  trust  himself.  Dishonorable  practice  saps 
this  foundation :  it  introduces  a  kind  of  dry  rot  into 
the  moral  life.  When  some  unusual  strain  of  tempta- 
tion to  do  gross  wrong  comes  upon  a  man  who  has  been 
guilty  of  dishonorable  conduct,  perhaps  known  only  to 
himself,  he  will  probably  go  down,  as  the  great  Tay 
bridge  went  down  in  the  night,  because  of  some  flaw, 
carrying  with  it  hundreds  of  lives. 

The  justly  anxious  passenger  on  an  ocean  steamer, 
in  a  severe  storm,  asked  the  captain  if  the  vessel  could 
live  through  the  tempest.  "  If  any  ship  can,  this  one 
can,"  replied  the  captain ;  "  I  know  her  builder,  and  I 
know  that  she  was  built  on  honor."  That  is  a  good 
Avord  for  all :  Build  Life  on  Honor !  When  we  are 
children  at  home  we  cannot  begin  too  soon  to  make  our 
word  the  exact  counterpart  of  fact  so  far  as  we  know  it, 
and  our  promise  to  do  anything  the  assurance  of  honest 
performance.  If  we  break  any  precious  piece  of  glass 
or  furniture  about  the  house,  let  us  not  break  the  truth 
too :  let  us  fear  that  damage  more  than  any  punishment 
that  can  come  upon  us. 

In  the  school  we  can  build  life  on  honor,  by  refusing 


THE  LAW  OF  HONOR.  lU 

to  prompt,  or  to  be  prompted  by,  another  scholar ;  we 
can  scorn  to  use  "  ponies,"  we  can  take  our  examinations 
fairly,  without  the  trick  of  scribbling  the  answers  before- 
hand on  our  cuffs  or  elsewhere  ;  when  we  have  done 
wrong,  we  can  take  our  punishment  manfully,  with- 
out trying  to  sneak  out  of  it  and  letting  some  inno- 
cent person  be  suspected  or  even  disciplined  for  it. 
When  we  leave  school  and  take  up  the  active  business 
of  life,  we  can  build  on  honorable  work,  done  carefully 
and  faithfully.  Let  no  one  need  to. watch  us  or  inspect 
our  performance  to  see  if  we  have  ijeen  shortening  the 
quantity  or  "  scamping  "  the  quality  of  our  work.  We 
agree  to  work  certain  hours,  on  understood  conditions ; 
honor  bids  us  fill  these  hours  with  patient  work,  having 
a  single  eye  to  the  interest  of  our  employer  ;  it  bids  us 
live  up  to  every  condition  of  our  self-chosen  task. 

If  we  ourselves  become  employers,  building  life  on 
honor  means  doing  justice  to  our  men,  paying  wages 
promptly  and  fully,  and  recognizing  and  rewarding 
merit.  It  means  dealing  justly  in  every  trade,  giving 
fair  measure  and  just  weight  and  due  quality.  If  our 
chosen  business  has  a  certain  dishonorable  practice  in  it, 
it  is  our  duty  to  try  and  "  reform  it  altogether  "  if  we 
can  ;  no  one  knows  how  much  he  can  do  to  improve  the 
morality  of  his  trade  or  business  or  profession  until  he 
has,  very  earnestly,  tried.  Honor  forbids  cheating  an 
individual.  It  forbids  cheating  a  corporation  as  well ; 
if  the  "  corporation  has  no  soul,"  this  is  not  a  suf- 
ficient reason  why  you  should  not  have  a  conscience  ! 
Pay  your  fare,  then,  if  you  take  your  ride  in  the  horse- 
car,  or  the  steam-car ;  the  corporation  has  fulfilled  its 
part  of  the  contract  in  transporting  3^ou  ;  fulfil  your 
part  by  paying  for  the  ride.  It  is  dishonorable  to  take 
advantage  of  the  mistake  or  oversight  of  those  with 
whom  you  have  dealings ;  in  making  change,  or  ex- 
change, the  honorable  man  takes  and  keeps  only  what 
belonsrs  to  him. 


112  THE  LAWS   OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

The  honorable  lawyer  seeks,  first  of  all,  to  have  jus- 
tice done,  not  to  pervert  it  in  the  interest  of  a  guilty 
client,  that  the  innocent  may  suffer.  The  honorable 
physician  prepares  himself  for  his  difficult  profession 
by  long  study,  and  despises  the  bogus  diploma.  The 
honorable  clergyman  respects  the  dignities  of  his  profes- 
sion, and  in  all  his  dealings  follows  the  strictest  code  of 
personal  morals.  The  honorable  statesman  makes  only 
pledges  that  he  intends  to  keep,  and  builds  "  platforms  " 
on  which  he  means  to  stand. 

Building  life  on  honor  is  building  it  like  a  good  mas- 
ter-builder, on  honest  day-labor,  not  on  a  contract  out  of 
which  we  seek  to  profit  as  much  as  possible.  In  the 
end  it  is  always  better  to  be,  than  to  pretend  to  be. 
We  are  to  respect  the  law ;  we  are  to  respect  public 
opinion ;  but,  most  of  all,  we  are  to  respect  our  careful 
consciences.  "  Where  jon  feel  your  honor  grip,  let  that 
aye  be  your  border,"  beyond  which  you  will  not  go. 


NOTES. 

Magnanimity  is  the  end  to  be  sought  in  all  discourse  of 
honor.  The  mind  great  in  virtue,  if  not  in  talent,  is  strong, 
healthy,  and  serene;  but  parvanimity  implies  weakness,  disease, 
and  distress.  "  This  is  a  manly  world  we  live  in.  Our  rever- 
ence is  good  for  nothing,  if  it  does  not  begin  with  self-respect." 
(O.  W.  Holmes.) 

"  The  wisest  man  could  ask  no  more  of  fate 
Than  to  be  simple,  modest,  manly,  true, 
Safe  from  the  many,  honored  by  the  few ; 
Nothing-  to  court  in  Church,  or  World,  or  State, 
But  inwardly  in  secret  to  be  great." 

(Lowell.) 

Some  have  complained  that  in  the  human  world  disease  is 
catching  while  health  is  not.  This  is  a  mistake;  health  is  at 
least  as  contagious  as  disease.    But  in  the  moral  sphere  the  truth 


THE  LAW  OF  HONOR.  113 

is  obvious  that  honor  calls  out  honor,  the  best  way  to  advance  in 
morality  being  to  take  the  forward  step  yourself,  relying  on  the 
innate  disposition  of  men  to  do  as  they  are  done  by.  See  De 
Quincey's  story  of  A  Noble  Revenge. 

"  Be  noble  !  and  the  nobleness  that  lies 
In  other  men,  sleeping'  but  never  dead, 
Will  rise  in  majesty  to  meet  thy  own." 

The  honorable  persons  in  a  community  are  the  saving  rem- 
nant, and  they  are  never  satisfied  until  public  opinion  inclines  in 
favor  of  the  just  way  which  they  advocate  and  practice.  Moral 
progi-ess  usually  begins  with  the  exceptionally  conscientious  in- 
dividual. He  first  persuades  a  few  ;  in  time  the  few  become 
many,  and  the  public  opinion,  which  governs  all  modern  states, 
soon  expresses  itself  in  law,  if  it  is  deemed  expedient. 

The  "law  of  honor,"  criticised  by  Porter  (Elements  of  Moral 
Science),  is  the  technical  code  prevailing  in  a  certain  class  or 
profession  ;  to  this  his  objections  are  well  founded.  But  the  law 
of  honor  here  set  forth  is  limited  by  no  artificial  or  class  distinc- 
tions.   Wordsworth's  lines  describe  it:  — 

"  Say,  what  is  honor  ?     'T  is  the  finest  sense 
Of  justice  which  the  human  mind  can  frame, 
Intent  each  lurking  fraUty  to  disclaim. 
And  guard  the  way  of  life  from  all  offence, 
Suffered  or  done." 


CHAPTER  XI. 
PERSONAL  HABITS. 

The  greater  part  of  morality  has  reference  directly  to 
our  relations  with,  other  persons.  But  a  large  portion 
of  our  duty  concerns  things  that  we  are  to  do  for  our- 
selves, as  no  one  else  can  do  them  so  well  for  us,  and 
that  affect  others  only  indirectly. 

I.  Each  of  us  has  to  care  for  his  own  person.  Clean- 
liness of  body  and  neatness  in  dress  are  matters  of  in- 
dividual ethics,  which  we  have  to  learn  to  attend  to  as 
early  as  we  can  in  life.  Such  habits  as  frequent  bath- 
ing and  cleaning  the  teeth  are  parts  of  that  physical 
virtue  in  which  every  human  being  should  be  diligent. 
Bodily  health  is  so  important  in  every  way,  in  its  bear- 
ings on  our  own  happiness  and  the  welfare  of  others, 
that  we  should  make  it  no  small  part  of  the  right  life 
to  conform  all  our  physical  habits  to  the  rules  of  health. 
Some  say  that  it  is  "  a  sin  to  be  sick  ;  "  certainly,  very 
much  of  the  illness  and  disease  in  the  world  is  avoid- 
able. If  this  were  prevented,  as  it  might  be,  then  a 
great  addition  would  result  to  the  comfort  and  pros- 
perity of  mankind. 

Among  the  foremost  of  the  laws  of  health  is  Tem- 
perance, or  moderation  in  eating  and  drinking.  Eatmg 
to  excess,  not  for  the  sake  of  satisfying  the  natural 
desire  but  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  gratifying  an  appe- 
tite artificially  stimulated,  is  a  great  evil.  Gluttony, 
beside  causing  immediate  distress,  brings  on  many  dis- 
eases ;  it  unfits  one  for  mental  occupation,  and  it  makes 
one  careless  of  the  welfare  of  others  ;  it  puts  the  animal 
above  the  intellectual  part  of  us,  where  it  should  not 


PERSONAL  HABITS.  115 

be.  Enough  is  not  only  "  as  good  as  a  feast,"  but  better, 
for  it  leaves  us  able  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  the  mind, 
which  the  heavily-loaded  stomach  will  not  allow. 

Intemperance  is  so  much  more  plainly  and  widely 
injurious  in  the  matter  of  what  we  drink  that  the  word 
is  commonly  taken  to  mean  this  one  kind  of  bodily  ex- 
cess.    We  are  not  in  much  danger  of  drinking  water  to 
excess,  or  those  common  beverages  of  the  table,  tea  and 
coffee,  although  here  we  sometimes  need  to  be  on  our 
guard.     It  is  in    the   direction  of  those  intoxicating 
drinks  which  are  used,  more  or  less,  all  over  the  world, 
to  produce  agreeable  sensations,  that  men  are  most  of 
all  intemperate.     So  immense  and  wide-reaching  are  the 
bad  effects  of  indulgence  in  these  intoxicating  liquors 
that  it  is  altogether  safest  to  abstain  totally  from  using 
them  as  a  beverage,  taking  them  only  in  cases  of  sick- 
ness or  absolute  need.     They  are  artificial  stimulants, 
and  the  body  is  usually  sounder  and  better  off  Avithout 
them.     The  drunkard  puts  an  enemy  in  his  mouth  that 
steals  away  his  brains ;  he  becomes  insane  for  the  time, 
and  moral  law  has  no  power  over  him  until  he  becomes 
sober.     Through  continued  indulgence  he  loses  his  self- 
respect  ;  he  comes  to  care  only  for  the  gratification  of  his 
debased  appetite,     The  result  is  waste  and  ruin  to  him- 
self and  to  all  who  are  dependent  upon  him.     Loss,  un- 
happiness,  and  misfortune  of  a  hundred  kinds  attend 
ui)on  drunkenness.     It  has  been  well  said  that  Debt 
and  drink  are  the  two  great  devils  of  modern  life. 
Total  abstinence,  then,   from  the   use   of  intoxicating 
liquors  as  a  beverage,  is  the  part  of  wisdom  and  virtue. 

Less  injurious,  but  still  to  be  shunned  as  an  unclean 
and  wasteful  habit,  is  the  use  of  tobacco,  especially  in 
the  worst  way,  —  chewing.  The  frequent  use  of  tobacco 
is  apt  to  lead  to  drinking,  and  it  is  in  itself  a  habit  bad 
for  the  body  and  bad  for  the  mind ;  increasing  refine- 
ment should  put  an  end  to  it. 

One  may  be  intemperate  in  ^vork,  in  not  regarding 


116  TUE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

the  limit  wliich  liis  strength  and  his  health  fix  for  him. 
However  good  the  motive,  overwork  is  to  be  blamed  as 
unwise  ;  injurious  to  one's  self,  it  spoils  the  temper,  and 
causes  more  unhappiness  than  it  can  cure.  Too  much 
study  is  worse  even  than  too  much  play  for  the  growing 
boy  and  girl.  The  course  of  wisdom  for  old  and  young 
is  to  find  how  much  work  of  hand  or  head  one  can  do 
without  exhaustion,  and  stop  there. 

Of  physical  virtue  men  in  ancient  Greece  used  to 
think  much,  and  the  men  of  the  civilized  world  are  to- 
day concerning  themselves  much  about  it.  The  sound 
body  is  always  the  first  thing,  in  order  of  time,  to  attend 
to  ;  the  sound  mind  shows  itself  such  in  asking  for 
a  sound  body  as  its  ready  and  capable  servant  and 
helper.  To  balance  Avork  and  play  ;  to  keep  every  nat- 
ural appetite  true  to  its  proper  ofiice ;  to  be  clean  and 
pure  and  active  and  sound  bodily,  —  this  is  a  great 
matter  in  human  life,  for  without  physical  virtue  all 
other  virtues  lack  a  strong  friend.  To  physical  sound- 
ness some  kind  of  regular  bodily  work  or  exercise  is 
indispensable. 

II.  Next  comes  intellectual  virtue,  the  duty  of  cul- 
tivating our  minds  so  that  we  can  "  see  straight  and 
think  clear."  The  chief  glory  of  man  is  his  intellect : 
the  very  word,  *'  man,"  is  said  to  mean  "  the  thinker." 
In  every  civilized  state  the  education  of  the  people  is  a 
vital  matter ;  it  is  especially  such  here  in  our  own  coun- 
try. Nature  will  look  after  our  bodily  growth,  if  we 
will  let  her  have  her  own  way  and  not  hinder  her  by 
bad  habits.  But  our  minds  need  more  attention,  so 
that  we  may  start  right  in  life  ;  the  public  schools  are 
built,  and  we  go  to  them  as  boys  and  girls  that  we  may 
learn  the  elements  of  knowledge,  and  begin  to  use  our 
minds  capably.  We  are  steadily  growing  intellectually, 
if  we  spend  our  time  faithfully  in  school.  When  we 
leave  school,  Avhether  it  be  the  grammar  school,  the 
high  school,  the  college,  or  the  professional  school,  we 


PERSONAL  HABITS.  117 

are  more  free  to  fix  our  own  hours  and  plans  of  study. 
But  we  are  not  intellectualbj  virtuous,  we  do  not  show 
ourselves  possessed  of  strong  and  active  intellect,  unless 
we  continue  to  cultivate  our  minds  to  the  extent  of  our 
ability  as  long  as  we  live.  One  way  to  do  this  is  by 
mastering  our  work  or  business,  whatever  it  is,  by 
studying  it  in  practice,  and  by  reading  what  others  have 
found  out  concerning  it.  Every  art  has  its  science,  and 
we  should  never  be  satisfied  to  be  mere  hand- workers 
or  to  travel  round  and  round  the  same  dull  routine. 
Art  and  science  are  inexhaustible,  and  the  pleasures  of 
the  active  mind  are  very  pure  and  high  and  satisfying. 
Whatever  one's  intellectual  ability  may  be,  he  should 
give  it  lifelong  cultivation,  as  a  matter  of  duty  to 
himself  and  to  others. 

We  can  do  the  most  for  others  when  we  make  the 
most  of  our  own  ability,  whether  we  have  positive 
** talent"  or  not,  it  is  a  duty  laid  upon  all  to  think 
soundly,  that  we  may  act  wisely  and  rightly.  The  mis- 
fortunes of  mankind  are  largely  due  to  insufficiency  in 
the  knowledge  which  might  be  ours,  did  we  strive  for 
it,  and  to  vices  of  the  mind  such  as  wilful  blindness 
and  obstinacy  in  the  face  of  facts,  and  loose  thinking. 
These  troubles  might  be  avoided  largely  if  we  remem- 
ber that  intellectual  virtue  is  a  great  part  of  right-doing. 
In  order  to  do  the  right  we  must  first  know  the  right, 
and  we  shall  not  know  it  if  we  are  content  to  be  foolish 
or  ignorant.  Always  to  be  willing  to  learn,  to  be  fair  and 
candid,  to  defer  to  facts  and  the  laws  of  facts,  to  try  to 
think  all  around  a  subject  and  deep  into  it,  to  discuss 
disputed  matters  with  good  temper  and  a  single  desire 
to  get  at  the  truth,  —  these  are  some  of  the  intellectual 
virtues  which  have  a  most  important  part  to  play  in 
our  life.  In  the  common  schools  we  cannot  go  far 
beyond  teachableness;  but  this  is  the  beginning  of 
true  intellectual  virtue. 

III.  Much  of   our  most  valuable   education  we  get 


118  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

through  the  "work  we  have  to  do  in  order  to  live  and 
enjoy  life.  The  training  of  our  will  by  the  discipline 
of  school,  of  business,  of  regular  employment  of  any 
kind,  is  necessary  if  our  natural  powers  are  to  do  their 
best  work.  We  have  spoken  of  "  the  virtues  of  work  " 
under  another  head.  Here  we  may  mention  them  again 
with  reference  chiefly  to  the  person  who  practises  them. 
"  Prudence  "  is  a  word  which  marks  the  application  of 
mind  to  work  and  life.  A  shortened  form  of  providence 
(foresight),  it  implies  the  training  of  the  eye  of  the 
mind  to  look  forward  that  we  may  prepare  in  the  pres- 
ent for  the  future.  It  is  a  great  intellectual  and  practi- 
cal aptitude  to  be  able  to  do  this.  The  wisely  prudent 
man  is  self-denying  to-day  that  he  may  not  be  in  danger 
of  starving  or  some  only  less  severe  misfortune  next 
month  or  next  year  ;  he  is  economical  because  he  knows 
that  every  little  counts  in  the  end  :  he  takes  a  long  look 
ahead,  and,  like  a  good  chess-i:)layer,  adjusts  his  moves 
to  this  view. 

Every  man  who  wishes  to  think  clearly  and  act 
wisely  must  be  aware  that  one  of  the  greatest  obstacles 
to  both  of  these  excellences  is  indulgence  in  bad  tem- 
per. When  we  are  peevish  and  captious,  or  when  we 
are  in  a  positive  passion,  we  cannot  see  straight,  we 
cannot  think  clearly,  we  cannot  do  justly.  We  need 
to  discipline  our  natural  temper,  then,  to  take  account 
of  ourselves,  to  realize,  from  our  own  knowledge  or 
from  what  others  tell  us,  the  chief  faults  to  which 
we  are  most  exposed,  the  principal  weaknesses  of  our 
minds  and  the  deficiencies  in  our  previous  training,  that 
we  may  by  earnest  self-culture  do  away  with  all  these 
(oftentimes  we  think  them  points  of  strength),  and  be- 
come strong  by  self-controL  Suppose  that  we  think 
twice  before  acting  once  ;  that  we  stop  long  enough  to 
count  twenty  before  saying  the  sharp  or  bitter  word 
that  is  on  out  tongue.  The  Avord  will  be  kinder  and 
wiser !  the  deed  will  be  better !     The  patience  we  show 


PERSONAL  HABITS.  119 

in  training  a  dog  or  a  horse  ;  the  pains  we  bestow  upon 
our  own  bodily  habits  when  "  in  training  "  for  a  race  or 
a  match-game, — these  are  a  type  of  the  attention  and 
the  care  that  we  should  give  to  the  training  of  our 
tongues  and  our  tempers  in  the  ways  of  sweetness  and 
light. 

AYe  have  different  temperaments  by  nature  :  some 
persons  are  constitutionally  more  lively,  cheerful,  and 
fond  of  society  than  others.  In  our  judgments  upon 
others  and  on  ourselves  we  cannot  properly  ask  that  all 
shall  act  and  talk  alike :  each  one  must  be  allowed  to 
be  himself.  But  as  man  is  a  social  being,  a  degree  of 
cheerfulness  and  sociability  is  incumbent  upon  all  in 
ordinary  life.  Cheerfulness  may  not  be  in  itself  a  vir- 
tue, but  it  is  a  natural  grace  ;  a  happy  and  pleasant  dis- 
position may  not  be  a  duty  for  every  one,  but  all  ac- 
knowledge its  charm.  In  the  common  social  relations, 
then,  at  home  and  at  school,  for  instance,  we  do  Avisely 
-to  cultivate  beauty  in  action.  ^Modesty,  cheerfulness, 
and  kindliness  in  little  things  of  manner  belong  to  the 
beautiful.  The  "gentleman''  and  the  "lady"  show 
the  excellence  of  refinement  in  conduct.  Courtesy, 
which  once  meant  the  manners  of  court  where  the  no- 
bility lived  in  wealth  and  leisure,  is  the  flower  of  right- 
doing,  a  flower  which  any  one  may  cultivate.  Strength 
is  one  of  the  two  things  which  all  men  desire.  The 
righteous  action  is  usually  that  which  requires  the  most 
real  strength :  moral  courage,  for  instance,  is  the  high- 
est kind  of  courage.  But  Beauty,  the  other  thing  uni- 
versally desired,  comes  into  human  actions  with  kind- 
ness. When  it  takes  the  form  of  politeness  to  all  with 
whom  one  is  brought  into  contact,  of  a  gracious  cour- 
tesy to  the  nearer  circle  of  one's  acquaintances  and 
friends,  and  of  personal  affection  for  the  nearest  of  all, 
"the  Ought,  Duty,  is  one  thing  with  Science,  with 
Beauty,  and  with  Joy." 


120  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 


NOTES. 

"  OuK  work,"  says  Montaigne,  "  is  not  to  train  a  soul  by  itself 
alone,  nor  a  body  by  itself  alone,  but  to  train  a  man  ;  and  in  man 
soul  and  body  can  never  be  divided."  The  right  care  of  the 
body  includes  some  daily  work  or  exercise  ;  abstinence  from  sen- 
suality and  intemperance  ;  regularity  in  eating  and  sleeping  ; 
cleanliness  ;  training  of  the  eye  and  hand  ;  the  acquirement  of 
physical  skill  in  our  particular  trade  or  craft,  if  we  follow  one, 
and  the  harmonious  development  of  all  the  bodily  powers.  Books 
of  instruction  in  physical  virtue  are  nowadays  very  plentiful,  and 
it  is  not  necessary  to  single  out  any  here  for  special  mention. 
"  The  first  duty  of  every  man  is  to  be  a  good  animal." 

"  Intellectual  virtue  "  brings  up  the  vast  subject  of  education 
in  general,  —  that  which  schools  give  us  and  that  which  we  give 
ourselves.  The  care  of  the  mind  is  more  apt  to  be  neglected 
by  good  people  than  it  should  be.  Much  bad  temper  is  due  to 
ill-advised  bodily  habits  ;  so  also  much  wrong  proceeds  from 
carelessness  in  finding  out  the  truth,  the  mental  indolence  which 
is  satisfied  with  good  intentions,  when  sound  thoughts  are  needed 
almost  as  mach  to  bring  about  welfare.  Self-culture,  in  the 
sense  of  continual  progress  in  knowledge  and  in  the  power  of 
reasoning  well,  is  within  the  reach  of  all  in  this  age  of  books. 
"  Pegging  away  "  at  one's  own  mental  deficiencies  will  produce 
astonishing  results.  If  only  an  hour  or  a  half-hour  a  day  is 
spent  on  some  really  great  book,  instead  of  being  nearly  wasted 
on  the  newspaper,  the  result  of  a  few  months'  perseverance  is 
most  encouraging.  It  is  in  the  direction  of  self-education  (the 
best  kind  of  all)  that  biographies  help  us  greatly.  To  get  the 
utmost  profit  from  them,  one  should  make  a  personal  application 
to  himself  of  the  example  of  virtue  set  by  the  man  or  woman 
whose  actual  career  is  portrayed,  and  ask  if  there  is  not  some- 
thing especially  adapted  to  himself  in  the  methods  of  self-dis- 
cipline described.  Advice  that  we  give  ourselves,  incited  by  the 
record  of  a  true  man's  life,  comes  with  tenfold  power  ;  it  is  the 
best  of  all  counsel. 

Tlie  allusion  in  the  last  paragraph  of  this  chapter  is  to  the 
following  words  of  Rev.  F.  H.  Hedge,  D.  D.  :  — 

"  Tliere  are  two  things  which  all  men  reverence  who  are 
capable  of  reverence,  —  strictly  speaking,  only  two  :  the  one  is 


PERSONAL  HABITS.  121 

beauty,  the  other  power,  —  power  and  beauty  ;  man  is  so  consti- 
tuted that  he  must  reverence  these  so  far  and  so  fast  as  he  can 
apprehend  them.  And  so  far  and  so  fast  as  human  culture  ad- 
vances, men  will  see  that  holiness  is  beauty,  and  goodness, 
power." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

OUR  COUNTRY. 

I.  Patriotism.  We  have  spoken  of  the  duties  that 
we  owe  to  the  family,  the  school,  and  society  in  general. 
The  family  is  a  small  society  into  which  we  are  born 
and  in  which  we  grow  up :  its  obligations  are  the  strong- 
est, even  as  the  ties  it  makes  between  human  beings  are 
the  closest.  In  other  associations  of  men,  each  having 
a  special  object,  —  as  when  we  make  part  of  a  school,  of 
a  business  firm,  or  of  a  society  for  the  advancement  of 
some  reform,  —  we  have  special  duties  according  to  the 
end  and  aim  of  the  association.  But  there  is  a  larger 
kind  of  association  of  men  than  the  family  or  the  school, 
or  business  partnership  or  the  reform  society,  —  to  name 
no  others.  It  is  the  natural  grouping  of  great  bodies 
of  human  beings,  according  to  their  race  or  their  coun- 
try, into  Nations  or  States.  These  may  include  mil- 
lions of  people,  living  under  one  common  law,  enjoying 
the  benefits  of  the  same  government,  and  bound  to- 
gether by  the  same  great  duties  to  it. 

Here  in  the  United  States  of  America,  as  the  name 
shows,  we  use  the  word  "  State  "  in  a  special  sense  to 
mean  Massachusetts  or  Pennsylvania  or  California,  for 
instance,  all  the  different  States  being  united  in  what  is 
called  a  federal  government  to  make  the  Nation.  The 
distinction  is  very  important  politically  in  our  country 
between  the  State  government  and  the  National  govern- 
ment. But  it  is  a  distinction  made  for  practical  conve- 
nience, and  it  does  not  affect  the  fundamental  notion  of 
the  State  as  the  association  of  men  under  one  govern- 
ment.    When  we  speak  of  the  State  here  then,  we  may 


OUR  COUNTRY.  123 

intend  sometimes  a  particular  State  of  the  Union  in 
which  we  live  and  sometimes  the  Nation,  —  the  United 
States ;  but  we  always  mean  a  great  association  of  hu- 
man beings  for  political  ends.  Whatever  name  it  may 
bear,  the  State,  large  or  small,  is  the  supreme  earthly 
power  over  each  and  every  person  in  it.  Usually,  it  is 
an  association  of  multitudes  of  people  of  the  same  race 
in  one  particular  land,  —  their  native  country,  —  as 
with  the  French  in  France  or  the  Italians  in  Italy.  In 
our  own  land  we  are  a  people  made  up  of  many  races ; 
but  we  are  still  one  people,  living  in  one  country  and 
subject  to  one  government. 

We  Americans  cannot  be  patriots  after  the  manner 
of  men  who  live  in  a  small  country  with  a  king  over 
them  to  whom  they  owe  loyalty,  and  whose  will  is 
largely  law  to  them.  Our  country  is  very  great  in  size, 
and  each  one  of  us  is  part  of  the  power  that  rules  it  all. 
As  the  Italian  is  loyal  to  the  king,  or  the  German  to  the 
emperor,  we  have  to  be  loyal  to  the  people.  For  the 
great  American  idea  is  that  "  The  people  rule."  Gov- 
ernment is  here  of  the  people,  by  the  people,  for  the 
people,  as  Theodore  Parker  and  Abraham  Lincoln  have 
said.  This  is  the  democratic  principle  which  is  carried 
out  in  a  republican  form  of  government.  The  Ameri- 
can patriot  is  one  who  is  loyal  to  this  great  principle  of 
equal  rights  and  equal  duties,  and  will  give  his  life,  if 
need  be,  to  aid  the  government  which  stands  to  defend 
it.  Our  country  has  a  right  to  anything  we  can  give  : 
nothing  tliat  we  can  give  her  is  equal  to  all  that  she 
secures  to  us,  —  our  life,  our  liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of 
happiness.  So  when  our  country  is  in  danger,  from  a 
foreign  foe  or  from  civil  war,  it  is  the  simplest,  plain- 
est and  foremost  of  all  duties  for  each  and  every  citi- 
zen to  be  ready  to  take  up  arms  in  her  defence.  For 
her  defence  means  the  defence  of  all  that  we  hold  dear, 
—  family,  home,  friends,  our  great  institutions,  our  high 
principles,  our  inspiring  ideas  of  human  brotherhood. 


124  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

We  will  not  say  "  Our  Country,  right  or  wrong  !  "  in 
dealing  with  foreign  nations,  but  Our  Country  for- 
ever ;  we  will  keep  it  safe  and  hold  it  right !  In 
time  of  war  pur  native  land  must  hrst  be  defended 
against  every  assault :  in  time  of  peace  it  must  be  made 
the  home  of  justice.  When  we  see  the  veterans  of  the 
Grand  Army  of  the  Republic  marching  through  the  city 
streets,  some  of  them  bearing  the  tattered  flags  which 
once  they  carried  through  the  smoke  and  fiery  hail  of 
battle,  we  loudly  cheer  these  standards,  and  our  blood 
thrills,  for  the  flag  is  the  sign  of  Our  Country,  and  we 
feel  that,  like  those  war-stained  men,  we,  too,  would 
follow  the  flag  to  save  the  State.  In  great  love  for 
man,  for  the  cause  of  our  fatherland,  we,  too,  would  dare 
everything. 

"  Thoiigh  Love  repine  and  Reason  chafe, 
There  comes  a  voice  without  reply  : 
'T  is  man's  perdition  to  be  safe, 

When  for  the  Truth  he  ought  to  die." 

Happily,  in  our  peaceful  land,  the  call  for  such  su- 
preme devotion  rarely  comes.  Whenever  it  has  come,  it 
has  always  been  heeded  by  the  great  mass  of  men,  who 
show  how  natural  and  right,  how  sweet  and  beautiful 
it  is  to  die  for  their  country.     Rare,  indeed,  is  the  man, 

"  With  soul  so  dead, 
Who  never  to  himself  has  said 
'  This  is  my  own,  my  native  land.'  " 

And  when  we  say  it,  we  feel  that  our  country  has  a  su- 
preme claim  upon  us.  It  is  the  largest  part  of  the 
whole  human  race  the  thought  of  which  moves  any  but 
great  and  exceptional  natures  to  self-sacrifice.  We  may 
be  sure,  too,  that  he  will  love  all  mankind  best  who 
loves  his  country  best,  and  by  his  devotion  makes  it  the 
strongest  helper  of  all  the  sons  of  earth. 

Men  are  more  wont  to  feel  deeply  patriotic  in  time  of 
war  than  in  time  of  peace.  The  thought  of  our  whole 
country  as  above  party  and  creed,  above  North  or  South 


OUR   COUNTRY.  125 

or  East  or  West,  finds  us  and  moves  ns  most  profoundly 
when  the  welfare  of  the  whole  country  is  visibly  threat- 
ened. In  time  of  peace,  by  far  the  longer  time  of  the 
two,  we  are  thinking  mainly  about  our  family,  our  busi- 
ness, our  local  interests,  and  of  the  things  in  general 
which  are  apt  to  divide  one  section  or  one  State  from 
another.  The  main  duty  of  the  citizen  in  peace  is  to 
save  the  State,  not  from  destruction  from  without,  but 
from  error  and  wrong-doing  within.  Patriotism  then 
takes  another  form,  as  important  to  the  welfare  of  all 
as  volunteering  for  the  battle-field. 

II.  Political  Duty  is  this  other  form  of  patriotism, 
the  duty,  that  is,  of  doing  one's  part  in  the  government 
of  our  country,  in  State  and  Nation.  Every  man  over 
twenty-one  years  of  age  has  the  right  to  vote  for  other 
men  who  shall  represent  him,  i.  e.,  stand  for  him,  in  the 
work  of  making  and  administering  the  laws.  Each 
man  is,  therefore,  a  ruler  in  this  country.  His  power 
and  right  as  a  voter  brings  along  with  it  a  very  plain 
diif?/  to  exercise  the  right  and  use  the  power  for  the 
good  of  all.  This  signifies  to  the  American  voter  four 
things  :  He  should  keep  himself  well-informed  on  public 
questions.  He  should  do  his  part  by  his  words  toward 
constituting  a  right  public  opinion,  made  up  of  a  great 
sum  of  single  opinions  become  powerful  by  union.  He 
should  vote  according  to  his  own  convictions  of  truth 
and  justice.  He  should  not,  as  a  rule,  seek  office,  but  he 
should  be  ready  to  hold  it  for  the  public  good  when 
called  to  it  by  the  voice  of  his  fellow-citizens. 

There  are,  usually,  in  a  free  country  some  great  ques- 
tions of  public  policy  on  which  political  parties  are 
formed.  One  party  advocates  a  certain  line  of  action  ; 
another  would  do  differently  if  entrusted  with  the 
power  of  government.  In  our  country  there  are  now 
opposite  views  about  the  tariff,  for  instance,  about  the 
coinage  of  silver,  and  about  the  proper  relations  of  the 
National   government  to  the    State   governments.     As 


126  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

each  man  by  his  single  vote  can  affect  the  policy  which 
is  at  last  adoj)ted  by  Congress,  he  should  cast  this  vote 
intelligently.  He  should  enlighten  himself  as  to  tariffs 
and  free  trade,  for  example,  and  vote  so  that  his  con- 
viction as  to  what  the  welfare  of  the  country  demands 
may  be  carried  into  effect.  He  should  not  be  satisfied 
to  take  his  opinions  from  the  newspapers  of  the  party 
with  which  he  usually  votes,  and  let  them  do  his  think- 
ing for  him,  talking  and  voting  as  they  say.  He  sliould 
read  books  written  by  able  men  who  are  not  partisans, 
on  the  particular  subjects  in  debate,  and  he  should  in- 
form himself,  generally,  about  the  history  of  our  coun- 
try, and  have  some  knowledge',  the  more  the  better,  of 
the  sciences  of  politics  and  economics.  The  intelligent 
citizen  who  knows  for  what  he  is  voting,  and  why,  is 
the  mainstay  of  the  Republic.  The  illiterate  voter 
who  does  not  know  what  he  is  voting  for,  or  wh}^,  is  the 
greatest  danger  to  free  institutions. 

It  is  the  duty  of  every  citizen  who  has  thus  formed 
an  intelligent  opinion  on  political  matters  to  do  his  part 
in  creating  and  sustaining  a  sound  public  opinion.  This 
he  can  do  by  feeling  and  showing  an  interest  in  politics 
in  the  good  sense  of  the  word :  this  is  not  a  selfish 
scramble  for  office,  but  the  discussion  and  settlement  of 
great  public  questions  according  to  reason  and  right, 
through  men  of  ability  and  character.  Especially  in 
the  case  of  reform  movements  in  political  life  is  it  the 
duty  of  each  individual  to  stand  up  for  what  he  honestly 
believes  to  be  the  right,  and  to  express  himself  openly 
and  freely  in  favor  of  the  specific  measiire  which  would 
save  the  Eepublic  from  harm.  The  history  of  all  re- 
forms proves  how  important  is  the  duty  resting  upon 
the  private  citizen  to  use  his  right  of  free  speech. 
Slavery  was  abolished  in  this  country  as  the  final  result 
of  agitation  by  individuals  endeavoring  to  arouse  the 
conscience  of  the  people.  So  it  will  be  with  the  politi- 
cal evils  of  our  own  day  :  the  faithful  conscience  of 


OUB  COUNTRY.  127 

the  individual  is  the  power  which  is  to  destroy  them, 
sooner  or  later. 

No  man  who  has  the  right  to  vote  has  a  moral  right 
to  refrain  from  voting,  whenever  it  is  possible  for  him. 
The  plainest  part,  of  his  political  dnty,  bound  up  Avith 
his  very  right,  is  to  exercise  the  suffrage.  He  is  not 
doing  his  duty  to  his  country  when  he  stays  away  from 
the  polls  on  election  day,  whatever  the  real  cause  may 
be,  —  indifference,  contemj)t,  or  absorption  in  business 
or  pleasure.  The  one  method  that  avails  in  our  coun- 
try for  procuring  just  laws  arid  honest  ofhcials  is  to 
vote  for  capable  and  worthy  men.  Under  this  method 
each  vote  counts,  and  each  voter  should  see  that  his 
own  vote  is  thrown.  He  is  not  responsible  when  the 
opposite  party  succeeds  in  electing  a  bad  man  or  in  car- 
rying a  wrong  measure,  if  he  has  voted  against  them : 
the  responsibility  rests  upon  the  other  party.  But  he 
is  responsible  to  the  extent  of  his  vote  if  his  own 
party  elects  a  bad  man  or  passes  a  wrong  law.  Hence, 
he  is  not  only  bound  to  vote,  and  to  vote  intelligently, 
but  to  vote  with  a  single  eye  to  the  public  good,  with  a 
certain  party  or  against  it,  according  to  his  own  reason 
and  conscience. 

Few  men  are  qualified  by  their  abilities  or  character 
to  serve  the  State  in  high  political  positions.  But  in 
the  civil  service,  as  a  Avhole,  there  is  a  proper  opening 
for  any  one  who  desires  to  work  for  the  town,  the  city, 
the  State,  or  the  Nation  rather  than  for  a  private  em- 
ployer. This  routine  business  of  the  government  has 
nothing  to  do  with  the  political  issues  of  the  day,  and 
should  be  kept  apart  from  them  and  be  conducted  on 
strictly  business  methods  and  principles.  When  so 
conducted,  it  is  open  on  equal  conditions  to  every  citi- 
zen who  is  capable  and  worthy,  without  regard  to  his 
politics.  The  representative  offices  should  not  be 
sought  by  the  private  citizen  ;  but  when  his  fellow-citi- 
zens call  upon  him  to  represent  them  in  the  town  or 


128  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

city  government,  in  the  legislature  or  in  Congress,  their 
summons  should  be  heeded,  unless  there  are  strong  rea- 
sons to  the  contrary.  The  talents  and  the  worth  of  all 
its  citizens  are  properly  subject  to  the  call  of  the  com- 
munity, and  the  public  service  should  be  esteemed  by 
every  one  as  the  most  honorable  of  all  services. 

In  time  of  peace,  then,  the  patriot  thinks  upon  these 
political  duties,  —  his  obligations  to  inform  himself,  to 
spread  right  views,  to  vote,  and  to  hold  office  at  the 
will  of  the  people. 


NOTES. 


I.  The  teacher  will  find  without  difficulty  in  the  works  of  the 
leading  American  poets,  and  in  "  Speakers  "  containing  extracts 
from  our  most  noted  orators,  selections  suitable  for  reading  that 
are  calculated  to  inspire  an  intelligent  patriotism.  Such  poems 
are  numerous  in  James  Russell  Lowell's  works  in  particular  :  see 
"  The  Present  Crisis  "  ("  When  a  deed  is  done  for  freedom  ")  ;  the 
Biglow  Papers  ;  his  poems  of  the  war,  his  three  centennial  poems, 
and,  most  of  all,  the  "  Commemoration  Ode."  Longfellow  ("  Thou 
too  sail  on,  O  Ship  of  State  "),  Holmes  ("  The  Flower  of  Lib- 
erty "),  Whittier  ("  Democracy  "  and  numerous  war  poems),  and 
Bryant  have  written  many  noble  verses  of  patriotism.  Webster, 
Everett,  Winthrop  and  G.  W.  Curtis  are  names  of  orators  that 
will  occur  at  once  to  the  instructor  of  American  youth  ;  Lincoln's 
address  at  Gettysburg  is  foremost.  Relating  to  patriotism  in 
other  times  and  countries  are  such  poems  as  Bj'ron's  lines  "  They 
fell  devoted  but  undying  ;"  "  Horatius,"  by  Macaulay,  Brown- 
ing's "  Hervd  Riel,"  and  "  A  Legend  of  Bregenz,"  by  Adelaide 
A.  Procter.  There  are  several  good  collections  of  ballads  of 
heroism. 

II.  "  Defence  against  the  attack  of  barbarians  from  within  is 
as  essential  in  our  democracies  as  defence  against  the  foe  from 
without."  (Guyau.)  The  demagogue,  well  set  forth  long  ago  in 
Aristophanes'  Knights  (see  J.  H.  Frere's  translation),  is  the  chief 
pest  of  democratic  countries.  "  The  people's  government "  of 
which  Webster  spoke,  "  made  for  the  people,  made  by  the  people, 
and  answerable  to  the  people,"  must  conform  to  the  laws  of  poll' 


OUR   COUNTRY.  129 

tics  and  economics.  Every  citizen  should  understand  somewhat 
of  these  laws  and  of  the  history  of  his  country  in  which  they  have 
been  exhibited.  Happily  there  is  a  fast  increasing  number  of 
good  books  on  civil  government,  citizenship,  and  elementary  eco- 
nomics ;  there  is  now  no  sufHcient  excuse  for  ignorance  in  these 
matters.  Among  the  best  of  these  volumes  are  John  Fiske's  Civil 
Government  in  the  United  States,  Charles  Nordhoff's  Politics  for 
Young  Americans,  Professor  J.  Macy's  Our  Government,  and  C.  F. 
Dole's  A  merican  Citizen.  No  public-school  teacher  can  afford  to 
be  ignorant  of  Bryce's  American  Commonwealth.  The  Old  South 
Leaflets  contain  the  great  documents  of  Anglo-Saxon  freedom, 
which  it  is  well  to  read  entire.  Mr.  Fiske's  book  gives  full 
bibliographical  data  for  all  who  would  inform  themselves  con- 
cerning pur  free  institutions  and  their  history. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

CHARACTER. 

A  CHARACTER,  if  we  use  the  word  in  its  most  literal 
sense,  is  a  mark  or  sign  by  which  we  may  know  a  thing 
or  a  person.  Character  in  the  most  general  sense  is 
the  sum  of  all  the  intellectual  and  moral  qualities  which 
make  one  human  being  different  from  another.  We 
will  speak  here  of  moral  qualities  only.  This  man  has 
a  bad  character,  Ave  say  :  he  will  drink,  steal,  lie,  or 
cheat  when  he  has  opportunity.  That  man,  on  the  con- 
trary, is  a  man  of  good  character  :  he  is  truthful,  tem- 
perate, honest,  and  industrious.  The  servant-girl  leav- 
ing one  situation  for  another  asks  her  mistress  to  "  give 
her  a  character."  This  illustrates  another  common  use 
of  the  word  in  which  we  emplo}^  it  as  by  itself  equiva- 
lent to  "  good  character  :  "  it  is  the  sense  in  which  we 
shall  speak  of  character  in  this  chapter ;  we  mean  by  it 
the  collection  and  blending  of  distinctively  good  traits 
or  qualities  in  a  person. 

A  man's  character,  of  course,  is  what  he  is  in  him- 
self, not  what  he  owns  as  something  outside  of  him- 
self, or  something  he  has  personal  relations  with,  as 
with  his  family  or  his  partner  in  business.  Now  what 
he  is  in  himself  largely  determines  both  what  he  will 
own  and  what  relations  he  Avill  have  with  other  people. 
Very  important,  indeed,  is  it  to  a  man,  and  to  all  con- 
nected with  him,  what  he  owns,  —  money,  house,  land, 
ships,  warehouses  full  of  goods,  whatever  it  may  be. 
But  it  is  a  great  deal  more  important,  both  to  himself 
and  to  others  Avitli  whom  he  is  in  contact,  what  he  is  in 
himself,   in  his   disposition   and  character.     Health 


CHARACTER.  131 

has  more  to  do  with  happiness  than  wealth,  and  few 
persons,  probably,  would  choose  a  fortune  if  compelled 
to  take  bad  health  with  it.  Health  of  mind,  soundness 
of  soul,  comes  from  living  morally,  i.  e.,  according  to 
the  laws  of  the  life  together,  just  as  physical  health  is 
dependent  on  keeping  the  laws  of  the  body.  If  we 
have  health  of  mind  and  heart,  this,  again,  is  a  still 
more  important  matter  than  what  we  own.  Our  wel- 
fare and  the  welfare  of  others  with  whom  we  are  living 
depend  far  more  on  our  being  kind,  truthful,  and  just, 
than  on  the  number  of  thousands  of  dollars  we  may  or 
may  not  own. 

Character  is,  therefore,  properly,  an  aim  in  itself, 
i.  e.,  a  thing  to  be  desired  for  its  own  sake.  This  we 
say  not  because  it  is  out  of  relation  to  actual  life  or  the 
persons  in  it,  or  can  be  separated  from  these,  for  all 
things  in  the  world  are  related  to  one  another,  but  be- 
cause it  is  so  evidently  of  the  highest  value  when  logi- 
cally considered  apart.  We  say  that  a  certain  man  has 
a  strong,  independent,  self-reliant  character.  He  has 
the  qualities  in  him  indicated  by  these  adjectives ;  he  is 
mentally  and  morally  strong,  self-contained,  and  able  to 
stand  alone  against  a  nu.mber  of  men  in  the  Avrong. 
When  any  occasion  comes  for  showing  strength  of  mind 
and  will,  he  will  be  prepared.  Plainly,  it  is  well  that 
he  should  have  been  accumulating  this  strength  before- 
hand, if  there  is,  indeed,  any  way  to  do  it.  So  with  the 
kindness,  the  power  to  tell  the  truth  or  to  do  justly, 
that  we  are  needing  every  day  we  live.  If  there  is  any 
way  to  store  up  in  ourselves  moral  strength  and 
beauty,  which  are  demanded  by  the  life  in  common, 
surely  the  knowledge  of  it  is  most  desirable. 

Two  things  we  must  here  bear  in  mind,  especially.  I. 
The  good  character  that  we  show  in  our  life-actions  is 
not  like  a  purse  having  so  many  dollars  in  it,  out  of 
which  we  take  one  or  ten,  as  the  case  may  be,  and 
which  we  must  be  careful  to  fill  up  again  before  the 


132  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

money  is  all  drawn  out.  It  is,  on  the  contrary,  like  a 
muscle  of  the  arm  which  grows  stronger  by  exercise, 
like  a  faculty  of  the  mind,  such  as  memory,  which 
improves  by  practice.  Our  ability  to  tell  the  truth,  to 
do  honest  actions,  or  to  conduct  ourselves  graciously 
toward  others,  is  a  power  that  grows  with  use,  and  the 
good  act  becomes  easier  to  us  each  time  that  we  do  it. 

II.  Consequently  we  are  wise  when  we  aim  directly 
at  the  good  quality  or  moral  faculty  in  itself.  In  other 
words,  it  is  always  well  to  do  right  because  it  is 
right.  It  is  usually  a  difficult  thing  to  trace  out  in  our 
minds  the  probable  consequences  of  this  or  that  act 
which  we  are  purposing  to  do,  to  imagine  how  it  will 
affect  this  or  that  particular  person,  and  a  whole  multi- 
tude of  others.  But  if  Ave  know  that  it  is  right,  so  far 
as  we  can  see,  and  that  to  do  it  will  strengthen  in  our- 
selves the  power  to  do  right  again,  then  we  have  con- 
sidered, in  the  vast  majority  of  cases,  all  that  we  need 
to  consider.  We  must  bear  in  mind  that  mankind  has 
been  living  many  thousands  of  years  on  this  earth,  and 
that  all  this  time  men  have  been  learning  from  experi- 
ence, hard  or  pleasant,  sweet  or  bitter,  how  to  live  the 
life  together.  The  teachings  of  this  great,  this  vast 
experience  have  been  solidified  into  the  common  moral 
rules  concerning  truthfulness  and  honesty  and  peaceful- 
ness  and  industry  and  all  the  other  virtues  and  their 
opposite  vices.  These  rules  are  repeated,  again  and 
again,  in  books,  in  proverbs  about  conduct,  and  in  the 
daily  talk  of  men  giving  advice  to  one  another,  or  prais- 
ing or  condemning  other  men's  actions.  We  ought  to 
profit  by  this  experience  of  multitudes  of  men  who  have 
been  before  us,  so  as  to  avoid  their  errors  and  defeats, 
and  imitate  only  their  wisdom  and  their  victories. 
Obedience  to  a  few  plain  rules  is  all  that  we  need 
most  of  the  time.  But  the  few  strong  instincts,  of 
which  the  poet  also  speaks,  are  not  strong  enough  in 
us   to   bring   about   complete    and   constant  obedience. 


CHARACTER.  133 

We  wish  to  have  our  own  way  and  do  as  we  please, 
without  regard  to  the  effect  on  other  people,  who  have 
just  as  much  right  as  we  —  i.  e.,  none  at  all  —  to  have 
their  own  way  and  do  as  they  please.  So  we  act  as  if 
we  lived  in  a  world  where  the  most  important  of  all 
affairs,  the  dealings  of  men  with  each  other,  were  not 
subject  to  steadfast  laws  which  take  no  account  of  your 
conceit  or  my  selfishness,  but  forever  determine  that  if 
men  are  to  live  in  society  and  become  civilized,  they 
must  do  thus  and  so,  as  the  severe  and  beautiful  moral 
laws  declare.  Otherwise  society  cannot  prosper:  it 
cannot  even  be  at  all,  and  every  individual  must  suf- 
fer accordingly. 

When  we  consider  how  perpetually  we  are  acting  and 
reacting  on  each  other,  and  how  our  human  life  is 
three  fourths  conduct,  if  not  more,  we  see  how  vastly 
important  it  is  to  make  morality  easy  and  natural  to 
ourselves  so  that  we  shall,  indeed,  seem  to  be  acting 
always  from  those  "  few  strong  instincts."  How  shall 
we  do  this  ?  In  just  the  same  way,  fundamentally, 
that  any  one  must  follow  who  would  acquire  any  other 
art.  If  a  boy  would  learn  to  be  a  carpenter  he  must 
handle  the  saw  and  the  chisel  often  :  if  a  girl  would  be- 
come skilful  on  the  piano-forte,  she  must  first  prac- 
tise scales  and  other  exercises  by  the  hour.  Faculty 
comes  from  practice  :  skill  is  the  result  of  industry 
in  doing  the  thing.  We  see  about  us  in  the  world  men 
and  women  who  are  brave  and  generous  and  capable 
and  true  and  kind  and  noble  and  sweet  and  gracious, 
Avhose  words  and  acts  are  a  great  power  of  good  to  all 
who  meet  them  or  know  of  them.  These  persons  are 
masters  in  the  moral  art.  What  they  have  done  we, 
perchance,  can  do ;  and  we  can  begin  to  do  it,  in  a  small 
way  and  a  slight  degree.  We  gain  strength  and  skill 
Avith  practice,  like  the  blacksmith  at  the  anvil  or  the 
lilayer  at  the  piano-forte  ;  thus  we  find,  in  time,  the 
moral  line  of  least  resistance,  and  do  the  right  easily, 


134  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

naturally,  and  spontaneously.  Until  we  do  it  so,  it  is 
not  done  beautifully,  and  no  art  is  perfect  until  it 
comes  to  beauty  as  well  as  to  propriety.  The  higher 
powers  and  graces  of  conduct  are  unattainable  until  the 
ordinary  virtues  have  become  so  natural  to  us  through 
habit  that  we  do  right  without  thought,  as  without  diffi- 
culty. "  Habit  a  second  nature,"  said  the  great  Duke 
of  Wellington  ;  —  "  it  is  ten  times  nature."  ^ 

We  can  remake  otcrselves  to  an  indefinite  extent,  in- 
side the  limits  of  human  nature,  and  the  method  is  the 
formation  of  other  habits.  A  certain  good  action  may 
be  very  hard  for  us  to  do  at  first,  but  if  we  continue 
to  do  it,  the  difficulty  diminishes  and  at  last  disappears : 
the  action  has  become  natural  to  us.  But  the  "nature  " 
we  have  in  mind,  in  so  speaking,  is  not  the  undisci- 
plined nature  we  had  two  or  ten  years  ago  as  it  was, 
but  that  nature  trained  and  cultivated  by  the  exercise 
of  "will,  aiming  at  a  certain  moral  strength.  We  have 
left  a  lower  character  beneath  us,  and  have  climbed  up 
to  a  higher. 

We  should  then,  each  one  of  us,  take  ourselves  in 
hand  and  realize  that  moral  goodness  is,  least  of  all 
things,  to  be  given  by  one  person  to  another,  that,  be- 
yond all  other  desirable  possessions,  it  is  an  art  to  be 
acquired  by  personal  practice  and  individual  experience  ; 
that  more  than  in  any  other  direction,  we  can  learn  here 
from  the  errors  and  the  excellences  of  others  what  to 
avoid  and  what  to  pursue  ;  that  here  supremely,  to  be 
is  better  than  to  seem,  and  that  if  we  aim  to  be  like 
the  good  and  the  true,  to  enjoy  their  repute  and  wield 
their  power,  we  must  patiently  acquire  their  skill  in 
goodness,  their  faculty  of  righteousness. 

We  should  encourage  ourselves  with  remembering 
the  immense  aid  we  can  derive  from  the  record  of  the 
lives  of  the  men  and  women  who  have  made  morality 
the  finest  of  all  human  arts,  not  by  their  sublime  in- 

^  This  saying  will  beai"  a  second  quotation. 


CHABACTER.  135 

tellects  or  their  illustrious  deeds,  but  by  heroic  per- 
severance in  self-control  and  self-devotion.  Greater 
than  this  help  even  is  the  aid  that  we  can  all  impart 
to  one  another  by  living  sympathy  and  helpfulness. 
Sweetness  and  light,  —  we  can  give  a  small  portion 
of  these  to  one  another  every  day,  making  the  burdens 
easier  and  the  path  plainer.  Cogitavi  vias  meas:  "I 
have  considered  my  ways."  When  we  consider  them 
well  we  ask  for  guidance  from  the  noble  and  the  true 
of  the  past  and  the  present.  By  dwelling  on  their  ex- 
ample and  on  the  ideal  of  the  perfect  man  who  unites 
all  virtues  and  all  excellences,  we  are  inspired  to  be- 
come something  better  than  we  are ;  by  patient  continu- 
ance in  Avell-doing  we  are  slowly  transformed  into  the 
image  of  our  hope  ! 


NOTES. 


The  teacher  of  morals  will  do  well  to  conclude  every  lesson 
by  striking  the  note  of  character,  distinguished  from  the  note  of 
external  consequences  as  a  test  of  conduct,  and  from  the  note  of 
circumstances  as  a  rule  of  action.  "The  character  itself  should 
be  to  the  individual  a  paramount  end,  simply  because  the  exis- 
tence of  this  ideal  nobleness  of  character,  or  of  a  near  approach 
to  it,  in  any  abundance,  would  go  further  than  all  things  else 
toward  making  human  life  happy,  both  in  the  comparatively 
humble  sense  of  pleasure  and  freedom  from  pain,  and  in  the 
higher  meaning  of  rendering  life  not  what  it  now  is  almost  uni- 
versally, puerile  and  insignificant,  but  such  as  human  beings 
with  highly  developed  faculties  can  care  to  have."  —  J.  S.  Mill, 
Logic,  Bk.  vi.  Ch.  12. 

"  It  always  remains  true  that  if  we  had  been  greater,  circum- 
stances would  have  been  less  strong  against  us."  —  George 
Eliot  in  Middlemarch. 

"  A  healthy  soul  stands  united  with  the  Just  and  the  True,  as 
the  magnet  arranges  itself  with  the  pole,  so  that  he  stands  to  all 
beholders  like  a  transparent  object  betwixt  them  and  the  sun, 
and  whoso  journeys  towards  the  sun  journeys  towards  that  per- 


136  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

son.  He  is  thus  the  medium  of  the  highest  influence  to  all  who 
are  not  on  the  same  level.  Thus  men  of  character  are  the 
conscience  of  the  society  to  which  they  belong."  (Emerson, 
"  Character.")  The  Chinese  have  a  proverb  :  "  He  who  finds 
pleasure  in  vice  and  pain  in  virtue  is  still  a  novice  in  both." 

"Even  in  a  palace  life  may  be  led  well  ! 
So  spoke  the  imperial  sage,  purest  of  men, 
Marcus  Aurelius.  .  .  . 
The  aids  to  uoble  life  are  all  within." 

M.  Abnold. 

The  "  litei"atnre  of  power,"  as  distinguished  from  the  "  litera- 
ture of  knowledge,"  tends  to  .shape  character  in  manifold  ways. 
A  large  part  of  the  great  literature  of  the  world,  judged  by  lit- 
erary standards,  has  immense  influence,  directly  and  indirectly, 
in  forming  the  conduct  of  men.  Lectures,  sermons,  and  vol- 
umes on  character  are  innumerable  :  see,  simply  as  specimens, 
four  books,  Emerson's  Conduct  of  Life,  Character  Building,  by 
E.  P.  Jackson,  Chaiacter,  by  S.  Smiles,  and  Comer-Stones  of 
Character,  by  Kate  Gannett  Wells. 

The  importance  to  refinement  of  character  of  an  early  ac- 
quaintance with  the  best  literature  is  well  emphasized  by  Mary 
E.  Burt  in  her  Literary  Landmarks  and  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly 
for  May,  1891  ;  see  also  C.  D.  Warner's  article  in  the  same 
periodical  for  June,  1890,  and  "  Literature  in  School,"  by  H.  E. 
Scudder,  in  the  Riverside  Literature  Series. 

"  He  spoke,  and  words  more  soft  than  rain 
Brought  th3  Age  of  Gold  again  : 
His  action  won  such  reverence  sweet. 
As  hid  all  measure  of  the  feat." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
MORAL   PROGRESS. 

The  first  place  where  we  learn  about  the  moral  laws 
is,  of  course,  the  home  into  which  we  are  born.  The 
family  is  the  earliest  and  the  latest  school  of  morals. 
If  we  observe  how  children  advance  naturally  in  know- 
ledge and  practice  of  the  right,  we  shall  find  the  broad 
lines  on  which  the  moral  progress  of  the  world  at  large 
has  taken  place.  For,  as  the  philosophy  of  evolution 
teaches  us,  the  development  of  entire  hun^aniti/  is  figured 
and  summarized  in  the  growth  of  each  child. 

When  the  child  has  learned  to  obey  father  and 
mother,  and  when  it  will  speak  the  truth  to  them  con- 
stantly, it  may  still  conduct  itself  unmorally  or  immor- 
ally toward  persons  outside  the  home  bounds.  Chil- 
dren not  rarely  tell  an  untruth  to  a  mere  acquaintance 
or  a  stranger  without  any  sense  of  wrong-doing,  while 
they  would  think  it  very  wrong  to  tell  a  lie  to  father  or 
mother  or  brother  or  sister.  This  will  not  be  so  strange 
to  us  when  we  reflect  that  they  have  not  yet  learned  to 
know  any  larger  world  than  the  home,  that  their  ideas 
of  right  and  wrong  naturally  take  a  very  concrete  form 
and  are  concerned  with  a  very  few  persons.  Eight  is, 
for  them,  to  "  mind  "  father's  and  mother's  commands, 
to  do  as  they  are  told  to  do,  and  to  tell  their  parents 
the  truth.  The  general  and  abstract  idea  of  obedience 
to  the  Moral  Law  applying  to  all  mankind  comes 
later  and  gradually  Avith  experience  and  enlarging  power 
of  thought. 

All  the  mistakes  and  imperfections  of  the  morals  of 
children  can  be  paralleled  from  the  practice  of  savages 


138  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

or  barbarians  now  living,  or  from  the  records  of  early, 
historic  mankind.  The  savage  obeys  his  chief  and 
complies  very  carefully  with  the  customs  of  his  tribe  ; 
he  tells  the  truth,  in  a  rough  way,  to  his  fellow-tribes- 
men, and  in  general,  he  deals  with  them  according  to 
his  rude  notions  of  justice.  But  he  has  no  notion  that 
men  of  another  tribe  have  any  rights  that  he  is  bound 
to  respect.  He  can  deceive,  cheat,  mkltreat,  or  kill 
them,  in  peace  or  in  war,  and  his  conscience  will  never 
trouble  him.  He  has  a  tribal  conscience,  just  as  the 
child  has  a  home  conscience.  So  in  later  times,  and 
down  even  to  our  own  day,  persons  of  one  nation  or 
race  hate  those  of  another  or  of  all  others,  and  con- 
sider themselves  practically  free  from  this  or  that 
obligation  of  truth  or  justice  toward  them.  Such  are 
the  actual  relations,  too  often,  of  the  white  man  and  the 
man  with  a  black  or  a  yellow  skin ;  of  the  Englishman 
and  the  Irishman;  of  the  French  and  the  Germans. 
But  as  respects  the  extent  to  which  the  moral  law 
applies,  it  is  very  plain  that  we  do  not  reach  a  logical 
limit  until  we  have  included  the  whole  human  race. 
Morality  is  conterminous,  i.  e.,  has  the  same  bounds 
and  limits,  with  humanity,  with  all  mankind.  There 
are  special  duties  and  great  differences  in  the  degree 
of  obligation  according  as  we  live  in  closer  or  looser 
relations  with  other  human  beings,  from  the  nearness, 
constancy,  and  immediateness  of  home  life  up  to  our 
most  general  relations  to  the  great  mass  of  men  whom 
we  never  even  see.  But  whosoever  the  man  may  be, 
American,  Negro,  or  Chinaman,  with  whom  we  have 
dealings  at  any  time  or  in  any  place,  the  universal 
moral  law  dictates  that  he  shall  be  treated  justly.  Nihil 
hiimani  aUenum  a  me  jmto,  says  a  character  in  a  play  of 
the  Roman  writer,  Terence,  "  I  esteem  nothing  human 
foreign  to  me."  So  morality  might  speak  if  we  were 
to  personify  it.  Every  relation  of  man  to  men,  without 
regard  to  country  or  complexion  or  race  or  age,  is  sub- 


MORAL  PROGRESS.  139 

ject  to  moral  judgment.  Ethics  is  a  science  of  a  part 
of  universal  human  nature  :  and  morality  is  an  art  to  be 
practised  by  us  toward  every  other  human  being. 

Progress  in  general  morals  is  going  on,  and  must 
go  on,  until  all  mankind  recognize  that  they  live  under 
one  great  moral  law.  This  progress  is  marked  by  the 
discussion  and  agitation  of  the  rights  of  this  or  that 
class  of  human  beings  that  is  constantly  going  on. 
What  are  the  rights  of  women  ?  What  are  the  rights 
of  children  ?  What  are  the  rights  of  the  Negro  or  of 
the  Chinaman  in  this  country  ?  This  word  "  rights  " 
very  often  means  "  political  privileges,"  such  as  the 
right  to  vote,  with  which  we  are  not  concerned  in  this 
elementary  book.  But  the  moral  rights  of  women  and 
children,  of  negroes  and  Chinamen,  for  example,  are 
much  more  im})ortant  to  them  than  these  political  privi- 
leges. Moral  progress  consists,  in  one  aspect,  in  the 
increasing  recognition,  theoretically  and  practically,,  of 
the  fact  that  there  is  the  same  measure  of  right  and 
duty  for  every  human  being. 

Each  person  has  a  right  to  himself,  to  his  own  per- 
son :  so  slavery,  the  ownership  of  one  man  by  another, 
as  if  he  were  a  piece  of  property  like  a  dog  or  a  horse, 
is  wrong,  whether  the  slave  be  white  or  black  in  color. 
Women  have  peculiar  duties  as  wives  and  mothers ;  but 
as  human  beings  in  a  civilized  state  they  have  the  same 
general  rights  as  men  to  education  and  property  and 
labor.  Children  are  morally  bound  to  obey  their  par- 
ents and  other  superiors  in  authority ;  but  parents  are 
bound,  as  well,  to  respect  the  nature  of  the  child  and  to 
give  him  an  education  to  fit  him  for  mature  life.  So 
there  are  the  rights  of  workmen  and  servants,  as  well 
as  their  duties,  which  are  to  be  borne  in  mind  by  mas- 
ters and  employers.  As  a  rule,  it  is  a  bad  sign  for  any 
person,  man  or  woman,  to  be  talking  very  much 
about  rights  ;  commonly,  he  would  have  fully  enough 
to  do  in  attending  to  his  duties.     We  can  never  be 


140  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

too  well  aware  that  each  right  has  a  corresponding  duty 
in  our  relations  with  every  other  human  being.  So 
much,  then,  for  the  extension  of  the  ideas  of  right  and 
duty  to  all  mankind. 

We  can  make  progress,  as  well,  in  the  thoroughness 
with  which  we  conceive  and  apply  the  idea  of  our  duty 
to  the  persons  with  whom  we  have  the  most  to  do.  In 
other  words,  our  morality  may  be  intensive  as  well  as 
extejisive. '  As  we  come  to  make  no  exceptions  in  the 
matter  of  persons,  and  thus  include  all  other  human 
beings  in  the  range  of  duty  ;  so  we  also  make  progress 
morally  by  deepening  and  intensifying  the  moral  life, 
—  thought,  feeling,  word,  and  act.  Some  persons  seem 
to  think  or  to  care  very  little  about  right  and  duty ; 
they  do  not  pay  attention  to  their  own  ways  and  habits 
to  see  if  these  may  be  improved  morally,  so  as  to  be 
juster  or  kinder.  Their  life  may  not  be  vicious  ;  and, 
if  they  are  naturally  amiable  and  cheerful,  it  may  have 
much  in  it  to  commend.  But  thoughtlessness  about  one's 
own  conduct  can  never  properly  be  praised.  The  art  of 
human  life  together  is  the  greatest  of  all  arts,  and  it 
can  never  be  learned  too  thoroughly.  We  can  make 
the  most  and  the  surest  progress  in  it  by  "  giving  heed  " 
to  it. 

We  are  not  to  become  morbid  and  think  overmuch 
about  ourselves  :  we  should  look  out,  not  in  ;  up,  not 
down;  forward,  not  back;  and  be  ready  to  lend  a 
hand.  But  observation  of  the  moral  life  in  others, 
who  excel  in  truth  and  goodness,  should  be  frequent, 
that  we  may  learn  of  them  to  be  and  to  do  better.  We 
should  not  be  satisfied  with  a  low  standard  of  right, 
content  to  do  as  most  others  are  doing  in  our  neighbor- 
hood, or  town,  in  our  political  party,  or  our  section  of 
the  country.  To  do  a  thing  because  others  do  it  is  not 
a  sufficient  reason.  We  are  bound  to  consider  if  it  is 
right,  according  to  our  highest  and  most  correct  ideas 
of  right ;  if  it  is  not  right  we  are  bound,  in  reason  and 


MORAL  PEOGEESS.  141 

honor,  not  to  do  it.  No  moral  progress  would  be  possi- 
ble if  some  one  did  not  set  tbe  example  of  following 
his  conscience  rather  than  complying  with  a  bad  habit 
which  many  persons  are  practising.  The  strictly  con- 
scientious and  honorable  people  are  usually  in  the 
minority ;  but  we  should  look  to  them,  not  to  the  ma- 
jority, to  discover  the  whole  extent  of  our  duty.  If 
the  truly  honorable  of  the  earth  are  wise,  their  practice 
in  a  particular  held  must  in  time  widen  and  widen, 
until  it  has  become  general. 

A  very  important  part  of  our  duty  is  to  enlighten  our 
minds  by  thought  and  discussion  and  reasoning  on 
moral  matters.  We  easily  get  into  the  rut  of  personal 
routine  and  class  prejudice,  and  we  often  need  to 
have  a  free  play  of  fresh  thought  and  feeling  over  the 
surface  of  our  living.  It  is  a  good  practice,  in  this  re- 
spect, occasionally  to  go  away  for  a  time,  from  our  work 
and  our  homes,  even  from  those  who  are  dearest  to  us. 
Eeturning,  we  find  ourselves  stronger  and  more  inter- 
ested in  our  work,  and  more  appreciative  of  the  beauty 
and  love  at  home.  It  is  good,  too,  every  day  to  read 
and  consider  some  inspiring  word  about  conduct  by  one 
of  the  many  great  teachers  who  can  help  us  to  live 
in  the  spirit.  Like  Goethe,  we  can  refresh  ourselves 
and  lift  up  the  whole  level  of  the  day  with  five  minutes 
spent  over  a  poem  or  a  picture.  Thus  we  learn,  little 
by  little,  what  magnanimity  is,  and,  however  slowly, 
come  to  live  nobly.  Upon  our  actual  practice  a  stream 
of  earnest  thought  should  play  ;  and  strength  to  do  the 
highest  right  will  come  by  exercise  of  the  power  we 
have,  as  we  understand  better  and  feel  more  deeply  the 
full  meaning  of  the  whole  moral  law.  So  feeling,  we 
rejoice  to  repeat  the  magnificent  eulogy  of  the  "  Steru 
Lawgiver  "  in  the  "  Ode  to  Duty  "  :  — 

"  Flowers  laugh  before  thee  on  their  beds, 
And  fragrance  in  thy  footing  treads  ; 
Thou  dost  preserve  the  stars  from  wrong, 
And  the  most  ancient  heavens  through  thee  are  fresh  and  strong." 


142  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

Witli  Wordsworth  we  join  in  the  petition  :  — 

"  To  humbler  functions,  awful  Power! 
I  call  thee  :   I  myself  commend 
Unto  thy  guidance  from  this  hour ; 
Oh,  let  my  weakness  have  an  end  ! 
Give  unto  me,  made  lowly  wise, 
The  spirit  of  self-sacrifice  ; 
The  confidence  of  reason  give  ; 
And  in  the  light  of  truth  thy  Bondmau  let  me  live !  " 


NOTES. 


The  evolution  of  morals  has  been  the  theme  of  numerous  writ- 
ers of  the  present  day,  who  have  industriously  collected  a  great 
amount  of  information  concerning  the  conduct  of  mankind  in 
all  times  and  countries.  But  the  difficulties  to  ethical  theory 
presented  by  the  wide  variations  of  conduct  among  men  have  long 
been  a  familiar  topic  with  writers  on  ethics.  See  for  an  exam- 
ple of  a  recent  treatment  of  the  subject,  in  Paul  Janet's  Theory 
of  Morals,  the  chapter  on  the  universality  of  moral  principles 
and  moral  progress. 

"  The  world  advances,  and  in  time  outgrows 
The  laws  that  iu  our  fathers'  days  were  best ; 
And  doubtless  after  us,  some  purer  scheme 
Will  be  shaped  out  by  wiser  men  than  we, 
Made  wiser  by  the  steady  growth  of  truth." 

Lowell. 

Civilization  grows  largely  in  proportion  to  the  willingness  and 
ability  of  men  to  cooperate  ;  and  cooperation  demands  great 
moral  qualities  which  we  cannot  begin  too  soon  to  cultivate. 

"  AH  are  needed  by  each  one  : 
Nothing  is  fair  or  good  alone." 

"  The  enthusiasm  of  humanity  "  is  the  name  happily  given  by 
Professor  J.  R.  Seeley  to  the  highest  type  of  desire  to  work  for 
others.  Mr.  Leslie  Stephen  has  worked  out  the  conception  of 
society  as  a  moral  organism  in  his  Science  of  Ethics ;  the  idea 
of  "  social  tissue  "  is  fully  developed  by  him.  He  concludes, 
however,  "  But  it  is  happy  for  the  world  that  moral  progress 
has  not  to  wait  till  an  unimpeachable  system  of  ethics  has  been 


MORAL  PEOGEESS.  143 

elaborated."  Progressive  Morality,  by  T.  Fowler,  and  Moral 
Order  and  Progress,  by  S.  Alexander,  contain  able  discussions  of 
the  advance  of  morality. 

The  moral  progress  of  most  importance  to  each  one  of  us  is 
indicated  in  Wordsworth's  "  Happy  Warrior"  :  — 

"  Who  not  content  that  former  worth  stand  fast, 
Looks  forward,  persevering  to  the  last, 
From  well  to  better,  daily  self-surpast ;  " 

in  Dr.  Holmes's  "  Chambered  Nautilus,"  and  in  D.  A.  Wasson's 
«'  Ideals." 


CHAPTER  XV. 
LIFE  ACCORDING  TO  THE  GOLDEN  RULE. 

Every  art  has  its  ideal,  the  standard  of  perfection, 
toward  which  the  efforts  of  all  who  practise  it  are  more 
or  less  consciously  directed.  In  human  conduct,  the 
greatest  of  all  arts  for  the  mass  of  mankind,  this  ideal 
would  be,  theoretically,  the  realization  in  one  life  of  all 
the  virtues  that  we  can  name.  But  they  are  so  many, 
and  human  beings  have  such  different  natural  disposi- 
tions, temperaments,  and  talents  that,  practically,  we 
do  not  expect  any  person,  even  the  best,  to  be  "  a  model 
of  all  the  virtues  :  "  such  a  phrase  is  ironical  on  the 
face  of  it.  But  there  is  one  rule  for  conduct,  observ- 
ance of  which  is  universally  allowed  to  be  a  mark  of 
every  thoroughly  good  person.  It  is  the  precept  known 
to  us  all  as  the  Golden  Rule  :  Do  unto  others  as  you 
woiild  that  they  should  do  unto  you.  This  is  so 
extremely  important  a  rule  of  conduct  to  bear  in  mind 
constantly  and  to  obey  every  hour,  that  we  shall  do 
well  to  consider  it  carefully. 

The  beginning  of  morality,  we  have  seen,  is  obedi- 
ence to  the  law  of  life  together,  and  this  means  self- 
control,  the  willingness  to  do  our  pai't,  —  no  less,  — 
and  to  take  our  share,  —  no  more.  But  the  greatest 
foe  of  the  good  life  is  the  intense  and  irrational  impvdse 
almost  every  person  has  to  assert  himself,  even  to  the 
loss  or  injury  of  others,  to  take  more  than  his  due  share 
of  the  good  things,  and  less  than  his  share  of  the  work, 
the  hardships  and  the  sufferings  of  human  life.  The 
extreme  point  of  this  selfishness  is  murder  and  war,  in 
which  one  takes  away  fi'oni  others  even  life  itself,  the 


LIFE  ACCORDING  TO  THE  GOLDEN  RULE.    145 

prime  condition  of  every  human  good.  If  we  briefly 
consider  the  history  of  the  world  down  to  modern 
times,  we  shall  agree  with  Mr.  John  Fiske :  "  There 
can  be  little  doubt  that  in  respect  to  justice  and  kind- 
ness the  advance  of  civilized  man  has  been  less  marked 
than  in  respect  of  quick-wittedness.  Now,  this  is  be- 
cause the  advancement  of  civilized  man  has  been  largely 
effected  through  lighting."  The  world  is  becoming 
more  peaceful,  we  trust,  and  will  advance  hereafter 
more  through  peace  than  through  war.  But  to  check 
the  extreme  selfishness  and  passion  which  show  them- 
selves in  violence  between  persons,  and  in  war  between 
nations,  to  make  peace  —  the  condition  of  most  of  the 
virtues  —  between  individuals  and  between  countries 
possible  and  actual,  some  universal  maxim  of  con- 
duct would  seem  to  be  desirable.  This,  obviously, 
should  refer  not  so  much  to  any  special  action,  as  kill- 
ing or  stealing,  as  to  the  general  disposition  out  of 
which  all  our  acts  proceed.  Such  a  rule,  applying  to 
so  widespread  an  evil  as  selfishness,  should  inculcate 
a  spirit  fatal  to  greed  and  violence  and  cunning.  To 
obtain  general  acceptance  it  should  be  plain,  direct,  and 
searching.  It  should  spring  out  of  the  actual  experi- 
ence of  mankind  in  all  times  and  countries,  and  justify 
itself  at  once  to  rational  beings. 

Such  a  rule  has  been  hit  upon,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  all 
over  the  world,  we  may  say,  in  every  country  where 
men  have  risen  from  the  condition  of  savages.  It  is  a 
simple  deduction  from  the  elementary  notion  of  justice. 
If  you  are  acting  in  a  certain  manner  toward  another 
person,  is  it  right  that  he  should  treat  you  in  the  same 
spirit  ?  If  you  say  that  it  would  not  be  right,  why 
would  it  not  be  right  ?  Is  your  own  conduct  toward 
him  right  ?  Of  course,  we  soon  realize,  when  we  have 
begun  to  reason  about  the  matter,  how  difficult,  if  not 
actually  impossible,  it  is  for  us  ''to  see  ourselves  as 
others  see  us,"  and  to  judge  our  own  acts,  words,  looks. 


146  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY  CONDUCT. 

feelings,  and  thoughts,  just  as  others  do.  In  fact,  a 
perfectly  just  judgment  would  have  to  take  into  account 
our  thoughts  and  feelings  as  we  ourselves  alone  can 
know  them,  as  well  as  the  expressions  and  words  others 
see  and  hear. 

Eecognizmg  this  common  difficulty  of  passing  right 
judgment  on  others  and  on  ourselves,  the  immeasurable 
experience  of  mankind  has  yet  shown  that  the  spirit 
in  ■which  we  act  is  the  main  matter.  If  we  have 
acted,  if  others  have  acted,  in  a  spirit  of  sympathy  ;  if 
in  the  conduct  of  each  there  is  an  effort  to  imagine  how 
his  action  would  appear  to  himself  if  he  were  the  other 
person,  and  to  shape  his  conduct  so  as  to  approve  it  to 
himself,  standing  in  the  other  man's  place,  —  then  we 
have  gotten  over  the  main  evil  in  our  conduct,  we  have 
risen,  to  a  degree,  out  of  self,  and  judged  and  acted  im- 
partially. Thus  doing,  we  are  at  least  acting  according 
to  a  rule,  not  according  to  a  blind  and  foolish  determi- 
nation to  have  our  own  way  and  get  all  we  can,  every- 
where and  always.  The  result,  shortly  stated,  of  mil- 
lions upon  millions  of  special  experiences  of  men  in 
social  life  is  that  the  Golden  Rule  is  the  best  attainable 
working  rule  of  life :  Put  yourself  in  his  place ;  do 
as  you  would  be  done  by.  This  means  :  Try  to  see 
things  as  they  are,  not  simply  as  they  first  appear  to 
yourself,  for  you  may  be,  you  must  be,  hindered  from 
seeing  them  completely  by  your  personal  interests  or 
limitations.  It  means  :  Try,  as  far  as  you  may,  to  see 
your  own  conduct  from  the  outside,  as  well  as  from  the 
inside. 

This  is  the  method  of  science.  In  every  other  di- 
rection we  endeavor  to  see  as  all  see,  to  know  as  all 
know,  to  find  what  is  fact  to  everybody  and  what  must 
be  law  for  all,  ourselves  as  well  as  others.  Our  con- 
duct will  be  rational,  and  so  right,  when  Ave  conform  it 
to  the  universal  laws  of  morals.  Practically,  the  easi- 
est way  for  us  so  to  conform  it  is  to  work  according  to 


LIFE  ACCORDING    TO   THE  GOLDEN  RULE.    147 

this  Golden  Rule.  The  act  that  you  are  about  to  do, 
would  you  like  to  have  it  done  to  yourself  ?  The  words 
that  are  on  your  tongue  to  speak,  would  you  like  to 
have  them  spoken  to  yourself  ?  These  are  very  search- 
ing questions  !  Beyond  a  doubt,  if  we  paused  to  put 
them  to  ourselves  and  acted  in  accordance  with  the 
negative  answer  which  we  should  often  give,  the  world 
would  be  very  much  happier,  very  much  better  than  it 
is.  For  it  is  one  of  the  simplest  facts  of  human  nature 
that  men  naturally  do  as  they  are  done  by :  wrong 
breeds  wrong,  and  injuries  are  returned  with  interest, 
and  so  multiplied  indefinitely.  But  if  we  are  treated 
justly  by  others,  we  at  least  incline  to  treat  them  justly. 
Kindness,  truthfulness,  all  the  virtues,  propagate  them- 
selves in  this  way. 

That  men,  then,  should  do  rightly  to  others  and  be 
treated  rightly  in  return,  it  is  chiefly  necessary  that 
they  should  bear  these  others  in  mind  and  act  with 
some  view  to  their  welfare.  The  most  direct  way  to 
this  end  is  to  imagine  ourselves  in  others'  places,  and 
then  act  accordingly.  So  all  the  greatest  teachers  of 
morals  the  world  has  seen  are  unanimous  in  laying 
down  the  Golden  Rule  in  one  form  or  another.  Let 
us  hear  what  some  of  them  say.  The  Buddhist  Dham- 
mapada,  or  Path  to  Virtue,  declares :  In  all  this  world 
evil  is  overcome  only  with  good.  The  Jewish  Book 
of  Leviticus  says  :  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as 
thyself.  Hillel,  the  famous  rabbi,  commanded  :  "  "What 
thou  hatest  thyself,  that  do  not  thou  to  another :  that  is 
the  whole  of  the  law."  Confucius,  the  great  moral 
teacher  of  China,  thus  expanded  the  rule  :  "  That  which 
you  hate  in  superiors,  do  not  practise  in  your  conduct 
toward  inferiors  ;  that  which  you  dislike  in  inferiors, 
do  not  practise  toward  superiors ;  that  which  you  hate 
in  those  before  you,  do  not  exhibit  to  those  behind  you ; 
that  which  you  hate  in  those  behind  you,  do  not  mani- 
fest to  those  before  you  ;  that  which  you  hate  in  those 


148  THE  LAWS  OF  DAILY   CONDUCT. 

on  your  right  do  not  manifest  to  those  on  your  left ; 
that  which  you  hate  in  those  on  your  left,  do  not  mani- 
fest to  those  on  your  right.  This  is  the  doctrine  of 
measuring  others  by  ourselves."  Briefer  is  tlie  an- 
swer which  Confucius  gave  to  one  who  asked  him,  "  Is 
there  one  word  which  may  serve  as  a  rule  of  practice 
for  all  one's  life  ?  "  "  Is  not  Reciprocity  such  a  word  ?  " 
he  replied ;  "  what  you  wish  done  to  yourself,  do  to 
others."  To  the  same  effect  spoke  Isocrates  the  Greek 
orator,  and  Thales  the  Greek  philosopher.  So,  in  the 
most  emphatic  way,  Jesus  of  Nazareth  commanded: 
All  things,  therefore,  whatsoever  ye  would  that 
men  should  do  unto  you,  even  so  do  ye  also  unto 
them. 

The  Golden  Kule  must  not  be  understood  as  taking 
the  place  of  the  whole  moral  code.  It  inculcates  the 
spirit  in  which  we  should  act.  Justice  and  truth  and 
kindness,  —  these  are  the  virtues  we  wish  men  to  show 
to  ourselves  :  they  are  the  very  virtues,  then,  that  we 
should  exhibit  to  them.  The  Golden  Rule  cannot  in- 
form us  precisely  what  is  just,  or  true,  or  kind,  in  a 
particular  instance ;  but  it  does  remind  us  to  act  accord- 
ing to  the  knowledge  we  have  of  the  just  and  the  true, 
in  a  kindly  manner.  Living  in  obedience  to  this  Rule, 
we  should  cultiv^ate  in  ourselves  the  intellectual  power 
of  imagination  and  the  capacity  of  sympathy.  "  The 
better  we  can  imagine  objects  and  relations  not  present 
to  sense,  the  more  readily  we  can  sympathize  with  other 
people.  Half  the  cruelty  in  the  world  is  the  direct  re- 
sult of  stiipid  incapacity  to  put  one's  self  in  the  other 
man's  place." 

No  one  has  a  right  to  ask  that  we  set  aside  justice  in 
his  favor,  or  that  we  shall  tell  lies  to  shield  him  from 
suffering  or  punishment.  But  the  Golden  Rule  de- 
mands that  justice  be  done  in  a  spirit  of  kindness,  and 
that  the  triith  be  spoken  in  love.  We  have  only  to  put 
it  into  practice  to  convince  ourselves  how  excellent  a 


LIFE  ACCORDING   TO   THE  GOLDEN  RULE.    149 

rule  it  is.  At  home,  did  parents  and  children,  husband 
and  wife,  brother  and  sister,  mistress  and  maid,  en- 
deavor to  appreciate  each  other's  duties,  difficulties, 
burdens,  and  trials,  and  act  in  real  sympathy  ;  did  they 
enter  into  each  other's  feelings  and  thoughts,  to  help, 
to  cheer,  to  bless  and  love :  what  a  right,  true,  and 
happy  home  that  would  be  !  If  in  the  school-room  the 
teacher  is  anxious  to  help  the  scholars,  and  the  scholars 
to  help  the  teacher,  how  that  school  would  prosper  in 
the  giving  and  the  getting  of  knowledge !  In  the  rela- 
tions of  employer  and  employee,  of  buyer  and  seller,  in 
our  common  social  intercourse,  in  our  use  of  power  and 
property,  of  knowledge  and  talent  and  skill,  in  every 
place  and  in  every  time  of  human  "  life  together,"  we 
have  only  to  do  as  we  would  be  done  by,  to  realize  the 
wisdom  of  those  who  gave  the  rule  and  the  happiness 
of  those  who  have  obeyed  it. 

When  we  do  wrong  to  others  as  we  think  they  have 
done  ±0  us,  considering  ourselves  most  of  all,  we  live 
under  an  iron  law  of  selfishness.  "When  we  only  refrain 
from  doing  what  we  should  not  wish  to  have  done  to 
ourselves,  this  may  be  called  living  under  a  silver  rule. 
But  the  one  rule  of  conduct  which  deserves  to  be  called 
Golden  says,  Whatsoever  ye  would  that  men  shoiild 
do  unto  you,  even  so  do  ye  unto  them  ! 


CHARACTER   BUILDING 

A  MASTER'S   TALKS   WITH   HIS  PUPILS 
By  EDWARD  P.  JACKSON,  A.  M. 


I 


TO 

Ml?  iPatber  anb  ^otftcr 

WHOSE    FAITHFUL    TEACHINGS 

AND  WHOSE 

LIVES  OF  SELF-SACRIFICE   IN  THE  CAUSE   OF  HUMAN  WELFARE 

INSPIRED  WHATEVER  IS  WORTHIEST  IN  THESE  PAGES 

THEY   ARE 

AFFECTIONATELY  AND  GRATEFULLY 

DEDICATED 


\ 


PREFACE. 


The  American  Secular  Union,  a  national  association 
having  for  its  object  the  complete  separation  of  Church 
and  State,  but  in  no  way  committed  to  any  system  of 
religious  belief  or  disbelief,  in  the  fall  of  3889  offered 
a  prize  of  one  thousand  dollars  "for  the  best  essay, 
treatise,  or  manual  adapted  to  aid  and  assist  teachers  in 
our  free  public  schools  and  in  the  Girard  College  for 
Orphans,  and  other  public  and  charitable  institutions 
professing  to  be  uu sectarian,  to  thoroughly  instruct 
children  and  youth  in  the  purest  principles  of  morality 
without  inculcating  religious  doctrine." 

The  members  of  the  committee  chosen  to  examine 
the  numerous  MSS.  submitted  were  :  Richard  B.  West- 
brook,  D.  D.,  LL.  B.,  President  of  the  Union,  Philadel- 
phia; Felix  Adler,  Ph.  D.,  of  the  Society  for  Ethical 
Culture,  New  York  ;  Prof.  D.  G.  Brinton,  M.  D.,  of  the 
University  of  Pennsylvania ;  Prof.  Frances  E.  White, 
M.  D.,  of  the  Woman's  Medical  College ;  and  Miss  Ida 
C.  Craddock,  Secretary  of  the  Union.  As,  in  the  opin- 
ion of  a  majority  of  the  committee,  no  one  of  the 
MSS.  fully  met  all  the  requirements,  the  prize  was 
equally  divided  between  the  two  adjudged  to  be  the 
best  oiTered,  entitled  respectively,  "  The  Laws  of  Daily 
Conduct,"  by  Nicholas  Paine  Gilman,  editor  of  the 
"Literary  World"  of  Boston,  and  author  of  "Profit 
Sharing  between  Employer  and  Employee ; "  and  "  Char- 
acter Building." 


VI  PREFACE. 

Although  the  two  books  were  written  with  no  refer- 
ence to  each  other,  they  seem  to  be,  both  in  manner  and 
matter,  each  the  complement  of  the  other.  The  defi- 
ciencies of  each  are,  in  great  measure,  supplied  by  the 
other.  While  "  The  Laws  of  Daily  Conduct "  is,  in  the 
main,  synthetic  and  general  in  its  treatment,  the  present 
work  is  more  analytic  and  specific.  The  two  are,  there- 
fore, published  in  a  single  volume,  as  well  as  separately, 
at  the  earnest  request  of  the  Union,  and  the  authors 
hope  that  the  joint  book  will  be  preferred  by  purchasers. 
Much  of  the  matter  in  the  introduction  to  "  The  Laws 
of  Daily  Conduct "  is  equally  pertinent  to  "  Character 
Building." 

The  avoidance  of  sectarianism  was  not  a  difficulty, 
but  a  relief.  Although  both  writers  wish  to  be  known 
as  friends  of  religion,  they  agree  in  the  conviction  that 
the  public  school,  which  belongs  equally  to  representa- 
tives of  all  sects  and  to  those  of  no  sect,  is  not  the  place 
for  special  religious  or  theological  instruction.  There 
is  enough  in  what  is  known  as  morals,  without  admix- 
ture of  a  distinctive  religious  creed,  enough  that  the 
good,  the  pure,  the  noble,  the  patriotic,  the  philanthro- 
pic of  all  creeds  can  agree  upon,  to  fill  not  one  little 
book  like  this,  but  a  library.  The  difficulty  is,  not  to 
find  material,  but  to  select  wisely  from  the  abundance 
at  hand. 

What  use  to  make  of  the  following  pages  each  teacher 
must  decide  for  himself.  They  may  serve  merely  as 
hints  as  to  methods,  or  they  may  supply  subjects  and 
their  treatment,  to'be  presented  in  such  other  language 
as  shall  seem  best  adapted  to  different  classes  of  hearers. 
Should  the  teacher  or  parent  prefer  to  read  them  in 
their  original  form,  the  time  required  for  each  of  the 
Talks  will  be  found  not  to  vary  materially  from  that 
prescribed  by  "Dr.  Dix,"  ten  minutes,  at  most  fifteen, 
of  one  day  in  each  week  of  the  school  year. 

E.  P.  J. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Pkeface. 

Pkologue   1 

I.  Sincerity 3 

II.  What  is  Right? 8 

III.  The  Sense  of  Duty 14 

IV.  "Credit,"  and  other  "Rewards  of  Merit"  .  19 
V.  Good  Boys  and  "  Fun  " 24 

VI.  Virtue  is  Strength  :  Vice  is  Weakness  .        .  28 

VII.  More  about  Good  Boys  and  ''  Fun  "      .        .  33 

VIII.  Cleverness  and  Courage .38 

IX.  The  Battle 43 

X.  Wars  and  Rumors  of  Wars       ....  47 

XI.  When  the  Good  Boy  will  Fight  ...  52 

XII.  When  the  Good  Boy  will  not  Fight       .        .  58 

XIII.  "  Goody-Goody  "  and  Good      ....  64 

XIV.  The  Knight  "  sans  Peur  et  sans  Reproche"  G9 
XV.  The  Attractiveness  of  Vice          ...  75 

XVI.  Creeping,  Walking,  and  Flying        ...  80 

XVII.  The  Doctor  is  Falrly  Caught       ...  84 

XVIII.  The  Chains  of  Habit 90 

XIX.  The  Alcohol  Habit 96 

XX.  Beneficent  Lions  and  Tigers    ....  100 

XXI.  Truth  and  Truthfulness        ....  106 

XXII.  Truth  and  Truthfulness  (continued)      .        .113 

XXIII.  Extravagance  in  Language    .        .        .        .  118 

XXIV.  Snakes  in  the  Grass 124 

XXV.  Great  is  Truth,  and  it  will  prevail  .        .  129 

XX\T:.  Honesty 1,36 

XXVII.  Honesty  (continued) 141 

XXVIII.  A  Black  List 146 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

XXIX.  Honor 154 

XXX.  "  When  the  Cat's  away  the  Mice  will  play"  160 

XXXI    Nagging 164 

XXXII.  Industry,  Wealth,  Happiness   .        .        .        .171 

XXXIII.  Industry,  Wealth,  Happiness  (continued)  176 

-^  XXXIV.  Vocation,  Vacation,  and  Avocation         .        .182 

XXXV.  Cruelty  to  Animals 188 

XXXVI.  Charity 195 

XXXVII.  With  Hand  and  Heart 199 

XXXVIII.  Politeness 205 

XXXIX.  Profanity  and  Obscenity        ....  211 

XL.  What  has  Algebra  to  do  with  Virtue  ?        .  218 
XLI.  Home  and  Country  :  The  Good  Son  and  the 

Good  Citizen 224 


CHARACTER  BUILDING. 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED. 

John  Dix,  Ph.  D.,  Principal  of  the  Freetown  Academy. 
His  Puplls. 

PEOLOGUE. 

"  A  time  to  keep  silence,  and  a  time  to  speak." 

Dr.  Dix  [concluding  a  snored  lecturel.  Well,  Jenkins, 
what  do  you  wish  to  say  ? 

Geoffrey  Jenkins  [ivith  a  sly  ivink  at  his  classmates']. 
I  beg  pardon,  but  are  we  going  to  recite  our  Caesar  les- 
son to-day  ? 

Dr.  Dix  [glancing  uneasily  at  the  clock'].  Is  it  pos- 
sible !  Eeally,  I  had  no  idea  it  was  so  late.  I  was  so 
engrossed  in  my  subject  that  I  was  altogether  uncon- 
scious of  the  flight  of  time.  No,  Jenkins,  I  regret  that 
we  must  give  up  our  Caesar  lesson  for  to-day.  Jenkins 
should  not  have  waited  until  it  was  too  late  before  call- 
ing my  attention.  Ah,  ha !  he  knew  what  he  was  about, 
did  he  [laughing]  ?  Well,  well,  you  need  n't  look  so 
delighted.  We  '11  take  a  double  lesson  next  time,  and 
give  our  whole  attention  to  it.  I  hope,  however,  that 
the  time  to-day  has  not  been  altogether  lost ;  and  yet, 
as  I  said,  I  regret  that  our  Caesar  lesson  must  be  post- 
poned. To  be  sure,  the  proper  discussion  of  a  great 
moral  principle  is  more  important  than  a  lesson  in 
Caesar :  but  we  are  told  that  there  is  a  time  for  every- 


2  CHARACTER    BUILDING. 

thing ;  and,  in  strict  justice,  we  have  no  right  to  give  the 
time  that  belongs  to  Csesar  to  anything  else,  or  to  any- 
body else,  however  worthy.     Well,  what  is  it,  Watson  ? 

Archibald  Watson.  "Render  unto  Caesar  the  things 
that  are  Caesar's."     \_Lauffhte):'] 

Br.  Dix.     "  And  "  —     Why  don't  you  finish  ? 

Archibald  Watson.  "  And  unto  God  the  things  that 
are  God's." 

Dr.  Dix.  Well  put,  my  lad,  well  put.  An  excellent 
application  of  a  famous  epigram.  The  past  hour  justly 
belonged  to  the  author  of  the  "  Commentaries,"  and  we 
have  given  it  to  Marcus  Aurelius  Antoninus. 

It  is  nearly  time  for  the  bell,  but  I  will  mention  to 
you  a  plan  which  I  have  been  thinking  of,  and  which  I 
shall  probably  adopt.  There  are  many  things  I  wish 
to  say  to  you  not  directly  connected  with  your  lessons. 
To  avoid  in  future  the  mistake  I  have  made  to-day, 
it  is  my  intention  to  set  apart  ten  or  fifteen  minutes 
every  W^ednesday  morning,  not  for  set  lessons,  but  for 
miscellaneous  Talks.  The  time  thus  appropriated  will 
be  taken  equitably  from  the  various  branches  of  study, 
and  no  one  of  them  need  to  suffer  perceptibly.  But 
whether  they  suffer  or  not,  I  shall  feel  that  I  am  doing 
no  wrong ;  and  certainly  no  one  can  doubt  the  impor- 
tance of  questions  of  conduct  and  motive  in  a  school 
which  professes  to  form  character  as  well  as  to  train 
the  intellect. 

If  I  should  adopt  this  plan,  I  cordially  invite  you  all  to 
join  freely  with  me  in  the  discussions,  to  suggest  topics, 
to  ask  questions,  and  to  feel  no  hesitation  Avhatever  in  ex- 
pressing dissent  from  anything  that  may  be  said,  —  hon- 
est dissent  I  mean,  of  course.  I  hope  no  one  will  ever 
take  part  in  a  discussion  simply  to  carry  his  point  and 
win  a  victory,  or  merely  to  make  a  display  of  his  skill 
at  logical  fencing.  The  one  great  object  I  wish  every 
one  to  have  before  him  is  to  discover  and  point  out  the 
truth.  ...  [BelL'] 


1. 

SINCERITY. 

Br.  Dix.  Well,  scholars,  after  further  consideration 
and  conference  with  certain  ladies  and  gentlemen  whose 
judgment  I  value  very  highly,  I  have  decided  to  adopt 
the  plan  which  I  mentioned  last  week. 

Until  further  notice,  then,  the  first  ten  minutes  of 
each  Wednesday  will  be  devoted  to  what  I  hope  will 
prove  not  only  useful  but  interesting  conversations.  I 
say  conversations,  for  I  want  you  to  do  your  share  of 
the  talking.  As,  however,  I  have  a  much  greater  store 
of  experience  to  draw  from  than  any  of  you,  I  expect 
that  my  share  will  be  much  larger  than  yours ;  but  I 
shall  always  take  good  care  to  give  you  a  full  opportu- 
nity to  say  all  you  feel  inclined  to  say.  You  have  only 
to  indicate  your  wish  in  the  usual  way,  and  it  shall  be 
granted. 

I  desire  that  these  Wednesday  Morning  Talks  of  ours 
shall  have  a  distinct  bearing  upon  the  formation  of 
character,  that  they  shall  be  such  as  shall  tend  to  make 
you  loyal  citizens,  and  good,  noble  men  and  women. 

And  first,  let  me  say,  the  easiest  and  cheapest  jjart  of 
morality  is  the  discussion  of  it.  Of  all  things  in  exist- 
ence, words  —  if  they  are  mere  words  —  are  the  cheap- 
est. Nothing  is  easier  for  some  men,  who  can  do  little 
else,  than  to  talk;  and  of  all  subjects  under  the  sun 
there  are  none  upon  which  more  empty  words  are  ut- 
tered than  upon  questions  of  morality.  As  you  have 
learned  in  your  study  of  English  Literature,  some  of  the 
most  exalted  sentiments  that  have  ever  been  expressed 
in  our  language  have  been  uttered  by  men  of  essentially 
ignoble  lives. 


4  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

The  first  condition,  then,  that  I  shall  impose  upon 
you  as  well  as  upon  myself  in  these  discussions  is  en- 
tire sincerity/. 

Louisa  Tho7npson.  Do  you  mean  that  we  are  not  to 
speak  of  good  things  that  we  do  not  do  ourselves  ? 

Dr.  Dlx  [sinUinr/'].  I  fear  that  such  a  restriction 
would  close  many  eloquent  lips. 

Louisa  Thompson.  And  are  all  those  eloquent  peo- 
ple hypocrites  ? 

Dr.  Dix  [tvith  erii2Jhasis'].  By  no  means,  Miss 
Thompson.  But  the  noblest  human  character  is  full  of 
imperfections.  Before  any  good  act  is  performed,  be- 
fore any  noble  quality  is  attained,  it  must  be  thought 
of  and  asjDired  to.  The  runner  in  a  race  must  fix  his 
thoughts  intently  on  the  goal  towards  which  he  is 
striving.  By  all  means  let  our  thoughts  and  words  be 
in  advance  of  our  actual  attainments.  That  is  the  very 
first  requisite  to  progress,  and  the  farther  in  advance 
they  are  the  better.  What  I  meant  was,  that  we  should 
not  profess  admiration  of  virtue  or  detestation  of  vice 
which  we  do  not  actually  feel,  —  that,  in  short,  we 
should  not  preach  what  we  do  not  at  least  sincerely 
desire  to  practice,  whether  in  our  weakness  we  are  able 
actually  to  practice  it  or  not.  I  think  we  shall  not  find 
this  too  severe  a  restriction.  I  take  it  for  granted  that 
there  is  no  one  here  who  has  not  a  genuine  desire,  more 
or  less  alive  and  awake,  to  become  better,  stronger, 
nobler,  more  admirable  than  he  is.  If  this  desire  is 
encouraged  —  and  there  is  no  better  way  to  encourage 
it  than  to  think  and  talk  about  it  —  it  will  naturally 
grow  stronger  and  stronger.  As  the  desire  strengthens, 
so  will  the  power  to  gratify  it.  There  is  no  other  sin- 
cere desire  of  the  human  heart  so  absolutely  sure  to  be 
realized  as  this. 

Do  not  let  our  talks  end  with  mere  talk.  Do  not  let 
any  of  us  discuss  the  beauty  and  nobility  of  truth- 
fulness, for  instance,  and  straightway  resume  the  prac- 


SINCERITY.  5 

tice  of  the  petty  deceptions  so  common  in  the  school- 
room, as  well  as  elsewhere.  Let  us  not  sound  the 
praises  of  industry,  cheerfulness,  forbearance,  gener- 
osity, and  immediately  proceed  to  the  indulgence  of 
idleness,  ill-temper,  impatience,  and  selfishness. 

Susan  Perkins.     What  is  a  hypocrite,  Dr.  Dix  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Let  us  hear  your  own  definition  first.  Miss 
Perkins. 

Susan  Perkins.  Why,  if  we  should  do  what  you 
have  just  asked  us  not  to  do,  we  should  be  hypocrites, 
should  we  not  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Not  necessarily.  No,  not  even  probably. 
A  hypocrite  is  one  who  attempts  to  deceive  others  in 
regard  to  his  true  character,  especially  one  who  pre- 
tends to  virtue  which  he  does  not  possess.  I  should 
not  think  of  accusing  any  of  you  of  such  contemptible 
meanness,  even  if  you  should  do  what  I  have  just 
asked  you  not  to  do.  I  should  simply  think  that  your 
sentiments,  though  strong  enough  to  be  expressed  in 
words,  were  neither  strong  nor  deep  enough  for  the 
louder  speaking  of  action.  They  would  be  like  certain 
plants  which  put  forth  very  showy  blossoms,  but  which 
have  not  vitality  enough  to  bear  fruit. 

No  ;  far  be  it  from  me  to  suspect  any  of  you  of  that 
degree  of  insincerity  which  amounts  to  hypocrisy,  a 
thing  so  utterly  mean  as  to  be  despised  alike  by  the 
good  and  the  bad.  But  if  you  give  occasion,  I  shall, 
of  course,  recognize  in  you  that  unconscious  sort  of  in- 
sincerity which  makes  us  satisfied  with  mere  words 
and  fleeting  emotions  instead  of  action,  —  with  im- 
pulse instead  of  steady,  persistent  purpose,  —  with  the 
shadow  instead  of  the  substance,  —  the  blossom  instead 
of  the  fruit. 

As  I  said  a  little  while  ago,  there  is  nothing  cheaper 
than  words.  But  even  those  whose  words  are  held  the 
cheapest  are  not  always  consciously  insincere.  Their 
emotions  and  sentiments  may  be  real  and  vivid  while 


6  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

they  last,  tliougli  they  may  scarcely  ovitlast  the  noisy 
breath  that  utters  thein. 

Whether  justly  or  unjustly,  it  is  the  common  disposi- 
tion of  mankind  to  place  a  low  estimate  upon  the  ear- 
nestness of  great  talkers,  and  more  particularly  upon 
their  will  and  power  to  do.  There  are  familiar  old  pro- 
verbs illustrating  this.     Let  us  have  some  of  them. 

Jane  Simj^son.  "Empty  vessels  make  the  most 
sound." 

Charles   Fox.     "  Still  waters  run  deep." 

Luc?/  Snoiv.     "  Shallow  brooks  babble." 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes.  Proverbs  are  called  the  wisdom  of 
many  and  the  wit  of  one.  Those  you  have  given  are 
among  the  wisest  and  the  wittiest.  There  is  danger, 
however,  that  their  very  wisdom  and  wit  may  lead  to 
their  too  wide  application.  One  of  the  most  familiar  of 
the  proverbs  may  well  serve  as  a  check  upon  all  the 
rest.     Can  any  of  you  tell  me  what  it  is  ? 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.  "  There  is  no  rule  without  excep- 
tions." 

Jonathan  Toiver.  And,  "  The  exception  proves  the 
rule." 

Dr.  Dix.  If  any  of  the  proverbs  needs  the  check  of 
the  first  of  these  two,  it  is  certainly  the  second.  There 
is  no  rule  with  more  exceptions,  even  in  Latin  prosody 
or  German  gender,  than  that  "  The  exception  proves 
the  rule." 

It  is  not  true  that  all  or  even  the  most  of  great  talk- 
ers are  deficient  in  earnestness  or  in  the  power  and  will 
to  accomplish  good  in  the  world.  The  mission  of  such 
—  I  mean  really  great  talkers  — is  chiefly  to  talk  ;  not 
to  express  what  they  do  not  feel,  but  sentiments  and 
emotions  whicli  may  be  even  deeper  and  more  fervent 
than  their  eloquent  words,  sentiments  and  emotions 
that  live  as  realities  in  their  hearts,  that  they  will  stand 
by  to  the  death,  if  need  be. 

Few  men  have   wielded  a  more  controlling  influence 


SINCERITY.  7 

over  their  fellow-men  than  Pericles  during  the  first 
years  of  the  Peloponnesian  War.  Cicero  attributes  his 
power  chiefly  to  his  surpassing  skill  in  oratory.  But 
what  could  his  oratory  have  accomplished  if  the  men  of 
Athens  had  not  known  that  their  eloquent  chief  meant 
every  word  exactly  as  he  said  it  ?  It  was  not  the  words 
that  gave  power  to  the  man  so  much  as  it  was  the  man 
that  gave  power  to  the  words.  Many  an  actor  on  the 
stage  has  equalled  and  perhaps  surpassed  Pericles  in 
the  tricks  of  voice,  facial  expression,  and  gesture ;  but 
the  sublimest  triumphs  of  the  stage  last  only  so  long 
as  the  illusion  of  reality  remains.  When  the  pageant 
is  over,  the  consciousness  of  its  unreality  returns,  and 
lo !  the  burning  words  have  lost  their  power,  save  as 
they  please  the  memory  and  the  imagination. 

And,  again,  it  is  ?iot  true  that  all  "  still  waters  run 
deep."  There  are  shallow,  stagnant  little  pools  that  lie 
more  silent  and  still  than  the  deepest  tides  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi. Silence  may  be  "  golden  "  or  it  may  be  leaden. 
It  may  be  the  silence  of  wisdom  and  self-mastery,  or 
it  may  be  the  silence  of  stupidity  and  cowardice,  the 
silence  of  the  owl,  or  the  silence  of  the  sphinx. 

Do  not,  therefore,  be  afraid  to  talk.  Only  talk  at  the 
right  time  and  in  the  right  place,  and  be  thoroughly  in 
earnest.  Mean  what  you  say.  Feel  yourself  what  you 
urge  upon  others,  and  be  sure  that  your  feeling  is  some- 
thing more  than  a  momentary  impulse.  Do  not  mis- 
take a  passing  breeze  for  a  trade-wind. 


II. 

WHAT  IS  EIGHT? 

Dr.  Dix.  I  don't  wish  you  to  look  upon  this  new 
move  of  ours  as  merely  the  introduction  of  a  new  branch 
of  study.  If  that  were  all  I  sought,  I  should  simply 
have  proposed  the  addition  of  ethics  to  our  curriculum. 
I  should  have  selected  a  suitable  text-book,  assigned 
lessons  to  be  learned,  perhaps,  and  appointed  an  hour 
for  recitation ;  in  which  case  some  of  you  would  proba- 
bly have  thought  more  of  your  "  marks  "  and  "  percent- 
ages "  than  of  the  branch  itself,  as  I  fear  is  true  with 
some  of  you  in  other  cases. 

No ;  it  is  not  merely  the  science,  but  the  art  and 
practice  of  morality  that  I  wish  you  to  acquire.  If  this 
object  is  to  be  accomplished,  it  must  be  chiefly  through 
your  own  efforts.  Something  of  the  science  we  may 
learn  by  talking  ;  the  art,  like  all  other  arts,  can  be 
acquired  only  by  faithful,  persevering  practice. 

Charles  Fox.     What  does  ethics  mean.  Dr.  Dix  ? 

Dr.  Dix  \_looking  around  his  audience^.  Well,  we  are 
all  waiting  for  an  answer. 

Isabelle  Anthony.  The  science  of  morality,  or  moral 
philosophy. 

Dr.  Dix.     And  what  is  morality  ? 

Isabelle  Anthony.  I  should  say  it  was  a  comprehen- 
sive word,  including  all  our  ideas  of  right  and  wrong. 

Dr.  Dix.  That  will  do  very  well  for  the  present.  I 
might  ask  what  is  meant  by  "  right,"  and  what  is  meant 
by  "  wrong."  That  would  lead  us  at  once  into  the  very 
heart  of  the  science  of  ethics. 

Charles  Fox.     And  is  n't  that  what  you  wish  ? 


WHAT  IS  BIGHT?  9 

Dr.  Dlx.  We  can  hardly  practise  an  art  successfully 
without  knowing,  either  by  acquisition  or  by  instinct, 
at  least  the  fundamental  principles  of  the  science  which 
relates  to  that  art.  What  I  wish  to  guard  against  is, 
lest  our  talks,  from  which  I  hope  so  much,  may  degen- 
erate into  distinctly  intellectual  exercises,  I  can  imag- 
ine our  pursuing  the  science  of  ethics  precisely  as  we 
study  chemistry  or  logic,  and  with  very  much  the  same 
result.  I  do  not  mean  that  that  result  would  not  in- 
clude moral  benefit.  I  believe  it  would,  just  as  I  be- 
lieve the  study  of  chemistry  —  ay,  even  of  algebra  —  is 
morally  beneficial  (and  we  shall  speak  of  this  more  at 
length  some  other  morning).  I  mean  that  the  moral 
benefit  would  be  secondary  to  the  intellectual  benefit, 
which  is  exactly  what  I  do  not  wish. 

I  have  often  heard  men  of  a  philosophical  and  argu- 
mentative turn  discussing  ethical  questions  for  no  other 
purpose  apparently 'than  to  wdiile  away  a  leisure  hour, 
and  to  display  their  logical  acumen.  I  have  heard  the 
loftiest  conceptions  of  right  and  duty,  in  the  abstract, 
eloquently  set  forth  b}^  men  whose  daily  lives  would 
indicate  anything  but  a  lofty  conception  of  their  own 
individual  duty. 

Of  course  we  must  have  something  of  what  is  known 
as  the  science  of  ethics,  but  not  enough  of  it  to  allow 
the  head  to  usurp  the  functions  of  the  heart.  We  will 
consider  that  this  ten  minutes  belongs  peculiarly  to  the 
heart,  and  we  will  allow  the  head  to  act  only  as  an  aux- 
iliary. It  is  enough  for  him  to  be  king  the  rest  of  the 
day,  with  the  heart  as  oidy  his  modest  and  meek  coun- 
sellor. Kow  I  am  ready  to  ask  you  what  is  meant  by 
"  right "  and  "  wrong." 

Miss  Thompson,  what  do  you  think  those  words  mean  ? 

Louisa  Thompson.  Right  is  —  is  —  why,  it  is  that 
which  is  r'ujht.     \_Laurjhte}:~\ 

Dr.  Dlx.  And  wrong  is,  by  the  same  process  of  rea- 
soning, that  which  is  wrong,  eh  ?     Well,  I  don't  know 


10  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

but  that  I  ought  to  be  satisfied,  with  your  answer.  It 
shows,  at  least,  that  the  words  have  a  clear  enough 
meaning  in  your  mind.  Right  is  right,  just  as  .  gold 
is  gold.;  and.  wrong  is  wrong,  as  dross  is  dross.  And 
so,  I  suppose,  the  words  have  a  definite  meaning  in  the 
minds  of  all  present.  Still,  it  is  possible  that  they  may 
mean  dift'erent  things  to  different  persons.  Let  us  see 
how  nearly  we  agree.  Miss  Thompson,  will  you  try 
once  more  ?     What  is  "  right "  ? 

Louisa  Thompson.     Eight  is  —  doing  good  to  others. 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.  I  was  going  to  say  that,  a:id  then 
I  thought  you  would  ask  what  I  meant  by  "  good."  So 
I  would  n't  say  it. 

Dr.  Dix  [^smiling'].  Precisely  what  I  was  about  to 
ask  Miss  Thompson,  not  for  the  sake  of  puzzling  her 
or  you,  but  for  exactly  the  opposite  reason  —  that  we 
might  begin  with  the  clearest  possible  ideas.  What  is 
"good"  ? 

Louisa  Thompson.  Whatever  causes  happiness  is 
good,  is  it  not  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Let  us  see.  It  is  said  that  the  effect  of 
certain  deadly  drugs  upon  the  nervous  system  is  to 
produce  a  sensation  of  intense  happiness.  Are  they 
good  ? 

Louisa  Thom^pson.  Ko,  sir;  but  the  sensations  they 
produce  are  not  true  happiness ;  besides,  they  cause 
greater  unhappiness  afterwards. 

Dr.  Dix.  Then,  suppose  we  say  that  nothing  is  good, 
even  though  it  may  cause  happiness  —  or  what  seems 
to  be  happiness  —  if  it  causes  greater  misery,  or  if  it 
prevents  greater  happiness. 

But  suppose  I  do  something  which  causes  happiness 
to  certain  persons  and  unhappiness,  though  in  a  less  de- 
gree, to  others  Avho  are  innocent ;  is  that  good  ? 

Louisa  Thompson.     N-no,  sir. 

Thomas  Dunn.  And  yet  that  very  thing  is  often 
done,  and  called  right  and  good,  too. 


WHAT  IS  BIGHT?  11 

Dr.  Dix.    When  and  by  whom  ? 

Thomas  Dunn.  By  the  government,  when  innocent 
men  are  obliged  to  go  to  war  to  save  their  country. 

Dr.  Dix  l^lmjyressioeli/^.  "  Dulce  et  decorum  est  pro 
patria  morV^  ^  Men  ought  and  often  do  count  it  their 
greatest  happiness,  as  well  as  glory,  to  make  that  sac- 
rifice. 

Archibald  Watson.  Then  why  shouldn't  everybody 
count  it  happiness  to  make  sacrifices  for  others  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  So  everybody  should,  my  boy  ;  but  we  are 
not  speaking  now  of  those  who  voluntarily  make  sacri- 
fice, but  of  those  who  require  it  of  others.  And  it 
must  be  remembered  that  the  same  rules  cannot  be 
applied  to  a  government  that  are  applied  to  an  indi- 
vidual. What  would  be  perfectly  right  and  good  in 
the  government  might  be  a  capital  crime  in  an  individ- 
ual. It  would  not  be  right  for  me  to  seek  the  happiness 
of  some  of  you  at  the  expense  of  the  suffering  of  others 
who  did  not  deserve  it  at  my  hands,  —  even  though  the 
total  amount  of  the  happiness  I  thus  caused  might  over- 
balance the  pain.  So,  though  it  is  safe  to  say  that  all 
good  is  right  and  all  right  is  good,  yet  we  see  that  there 
is  something  involved  in  both  the  right  and  the  good 
besides  mere  happiness.     What  is  it  ? 

Julia  Taylor.     Justice  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes.  Justice  and  happiness  may  coincide, 
but  we  do  not  think  of  them  as  inseparably  connected. 
Let  justice  be  done  is  our  instinctive  feeling,  whether 
happiness  results  or  not.     "  Fiat  justitia,  mat  caelum."  * 

George  Williams.  Is  it  not  both  right  and  good 
sometimes  to  set  aside  justice  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  No.  Justice  may  be  "tempered  with 
mercy  ;  "  but  it  is  never  right  nor  good  that  it  should 
be  "  set  aside."  Eight  demands  that  the  mercy  shown 
to  some  should  never  involve  injustice  to  others,  as,  for 

^  It  is  sweet  and  glorious  to  die  for  one's  country. 
2  Let  justice  be  done,  though  the  heavens  fall. 


12  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

instance,  when  a  criminal,  unrepentant  and  unreformed, 
is  pardoned  and  let  loose  to  prey  again  upon  society. 

Well,  what  besides  kindness,  mercy,  and  justice  are 
included  in  right  ? 

Susan  Perkins.     Truth. 

Dr.  Dix.  Do  not  our  commonest  instincts  teach  us 
that  nothing  can  he  right  or  good  that  is  not  true  ?  A 
lie,  even  though  it  may  cause  no  unhappiness  to  any 
living  creature,  is  and  must  be  forever  wrong.  Eight, 
rectus,  means  sti'aight,  true.  A  right  angle  is  a  square 
angle.  Even  in  slang  a  man  that  does  right  is  called 
"  square  "  and  "  straight,"  while  a  rascal  is  sometimes 
called  a  "  crook."  Wrong  is  not  straight  nor  square ; 
it  is  oblique,  crooked.  Its  very  spelling  shows  what  it 
is,  —  w-r-oug,  wrung,  u-rested  from  the  true  and  the 
right.  The  wrong  does  not  go  straight  on  ;  it  i^rithes, 
it  ^i'riggles. 

But  there  is  one  particular  word  which,  with  its 
equivalents,  expresses  the  idea  of  right  more  exactly, 
perhaps,  than  any  that  we  have  used  thus  far.  What 
is  it  ?     That  is  right  which  — 

Thomas  Dunn.     Ought  to  be. 

Dr.  Dix.  That  is  the  word,  ought,  owed.  Eight  is 
what  is  owed  by  somebody  or  something  to  somebody 
or  something.  Right  is  a  debt,  dehitum,  something 
owed.     And  there  are  equivalents  ;  what  are  they  ? 

Jane  Simpson.     Right  is  what  is  due,  duty. 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes.  But  we  must  be  careful  that  we  do 
not  take  those  words  in  too  narrow  a  sense.  Some  men 
seem  to  consider  that  they  do  their  full  duty  to  their 
fellow-men  when  they  pay  what  they  call  their  business 
debts.     Are  they  right  ? 

Many  Voices.     No,  sir. 

Dr.  Dix.     What  else  do  they  owe  ? 

Louisa  Thomjjson.     Kindness. 

Henry  Phillips.     Charity. 

Jonathan  Tower.     Help. 


WHAT  IS  RIGHT?  13 

Ltiet/  Snoiv.     Forbearance. 

Jane  ISimjJson.     Friendship. 

Susan  Ferkins.     Forgiveness. 

Dr.  Dix.  And  the  influence  and  example  of  a  noble, 
upright  life.  These  are  all  debts,  as  truly  as  those 
which  are  entered  in  their  ledgers. 


IIL 
THE  SENSE  OF  DUTY. 

Dr.  Dix.  To  do  riglit,  as  we  said  last  Wednesday 
morning,  is  simply  to  do  one's  duty.  Now  thimjs  al- 
ways do  that.  Observe,  in  this  last  statement  I  am  not 
using  the  word  duty  in  its  strict  metaphysical  sense, 
which  involves  the  idea  of  a  right  voluntary  choice  be- 
tween alternatives  of  action.  I  use  it  simply  in  its  ety- 
mological sense,  that  of  giving  what  is  owed,  what  is 
due.     As  I  said,  things  always  do  that. 

Thojnas  Dunn.  Do  they  always  ?  Does  a  watch,  for 
instance,  do  its  duty  when  it  refuses  to  go  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Always.  If  it  is  properly  made  in  the 
first  place,  and  is  not  abused  afterwards,  it  will  go  until 
it  is  worn  out,  and  then  it  is  its  duty  to  stop.  If  it  is 
not  properly  made,  and  is  badly  enough  abused,  it  is  its 
duty,  it  is  the  law  of  its  being,  so  to  speak,  not  to  go. 

Thomas  Dunn.  May  not  the  same,  or  at  least  a  simi- 
lar thing,  be  said  of  a  man  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes  and  no.  A  man  is  like  a  watch  only 
in  that  he  does  not  do  the  impossible.  He  is  entirely 
unlike  a  watch  in  that  he  does  not  necessarily  do  what 
he  can.  Yes,  Dunn,  things  always  obey  the  laws  of 
their  being.     They  always  i^ay  their  debts. 

Joseph  Cracldin.  But  they  deserve  no  credit  for  do- 
ing so  —  they  can't  help  it. 

Dr.  Dix.  Who  does  deserve  credit  for  simply  paying 
his  debts  ?  However,  we  will  not  consider  the  credit 
for  the  present ;  we  will  consider  the  fact  and  its  re- 
sults, which  are  precisely  the  same  as  if  things  could 
do  wrong  if  they  chose,  but  always  chose  to  do  right. 


THE  SENSE  OF  DUTY.  15 

A  part  of  the  lesson  we  are  to  learn  is  the  results  of 
right-doing  and  of  wrong-doing.  If  you  and  your  watch- 
maker do  your  duty  to  your  watch,  it  will  infallibly  do 
its  duty  to  you.  It  will  go  on,  never  resting,  never 
tiring,  never  losing  a  tick,  whether  the  eye  of  its  master 
is  on  it  or  not,  working  as  faithfully  through  the  long 
hours  of  the  night  as  in  the  daylight. 

In  a  school  reading-book  in  use  when  I  was  a  boy, 
there  was  an  ingenious  little  allegory  entitled  "  The 
Discontented  Pendulum,"  by  Jane  Taylor.  The  pendu- 
lum of  an  old  clock,  that  had  been  faithfully  ticking 
the  seconds  year  after  year,  was  represented  as  finally 
becoming  utterly  discouraged  by  its  uuintermitting  la- 
bors and  the  prospect  of  their  never  ending,  and  ab- 
ruptly coming  to  a  full  stop.  After  pouring  out  its 
grief  and  discouragement  to  a  sympathizing  ear,  listen- 
ing to  a  due  amount  of  remonstrance  for  its  ignoble 
neglect  of  duty  and  of  encouragement  to  persevere  to 
the  end,  —  remembering  that  it  never  had  but  one 
swing  to  make  in  a  second  and  that  it  always  had  the 
second  to  make  it  in,  —  it  was  finally  persuaded  to  dry 
its  tears  and  return  to  its  duty,  I  remember  that  I 
liked  the  fable  very  much  ;  but,  with  all  my  admiration, 
I  could  not  quite  forgive  the  injustice  done  to  the  pen- 
dulum in  even  imagining  it  capable  of  unfaithfulness 
of  which  only  a  living  creature  could  be  guilty. 

No,  things  are  never  unfaithful.  The  stars  never  de- 
sert their  posts  for  an  instant  throughout  the  ages. 
The  planets  never  swerve  a  hair's  breadth  from  the 
courses  marked  out  for  them  by  nature.  Xot  an  atom 
ever  refuses  to  fulfil  its  duty,  and  its  whole  duty,  in 
the  \inending  work  of  the  universe.  The  grand  result 
of  this  unvarying  fidelity  to  duty,  this  perfect  obedience 
to  the  laws  of  nature,  is  perfect  harmony  throughout 
the  physical  universe.  It  is  only  in  the  moral  universe 
that  discord  reigns. 

The  lower  animate  creation  is  no  less  faithful  to  dut}^ 


16  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

than  the  inanimate.  No  aUurements  will  tempt  the 
mother  bird  to  desert  her  young.  The  working  ant 
never  idles  away  his  time.  Queens  are  only  mothers  in 
the  hive  and  in  the  nest :  neither  kings  nor  queens  are 
needed  for  government,  for  none  of  their  subjects  was 
ever  known  to  violate  a  law  of  the  realm. 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.  The  grasshopper  idles,  if  the  ant 
does  n't. 

Archibald  Watson.  Yes,  sir ;  and  we  have  the  fable 
of  "  The  Ant  and  the  Grasshopper." 

Di\  Dix.  I  have  often  thought  that  fable  even  more 
unjust  to  the  grasshopper  than  Jane  Taylor's  to  the 
pendu.lum.  The  grasshopper  gets  his  living  through 
the  summer,  his  natural  term  of  life,  does  he  not  ? 
Many  a  Western  farmer  has  learned  that  to  his  sorrow. 

Geoffi^ey  Jenkins.     Yes,  sir  ;  he  steals  his  living. 

Dr  Dix.  No,  I  cannot  admit  that.  Human  laws  of 
property  are  binding  only  on  men,  not  on  grasshoppers. 
They  know  only  the  laws  of  nature,  which  recognize  no 
monopoly  of  the  green  fields  ;  they  have  never  learned 
to  read  the  warning  legend,  "  No  Trespass." 

But  let  us  see  what  even  the  grasshopper  will  do 
when  duty  calls.  When  the  devastating  multitudes 
sweep  over  the  plains,  leaving  no  green  shred  behind 
them,  attempts  are  sometimes  made  to  check  their  pro- 
gress by  lighting  long  lines  of  fire.  Then  comes  the 
vanguard  of  grasshoppers,  overwhelming  the  opposing 
walls  of  flame  like  an  extinguishing  wave  of  the  ocean. 
There  is  no  hesitation.  Haud  mora.^  Like  Napoleon's 
platoons  at  the  bridge  of  Lodi,  the  countless  multitudes 
go  unflinchingly  to  certain  death  for  the  sake  of  the 
vastly  greater  multitudes  behind  them. 

That  is  the  way  the  little  voluptuary  of  the  fable 
does  his  duty.  I  have  compared  him  to  the  heroic  sol- 
dier, the  human  type  of  that  perfect  fidelity  which  we 
have  seen  in  the  inanimate  and  in  the  lower  animate 
^  No  delay. 


THE  SENSE  OF  DUTY.  17 

creation.  The  true  soldier's  one  object  and  ambition  is 
to  do  his  duty,  no  matter  what  the  cost.  You  have  all 
heard  the  famous  story  of  the  burning  of  the  Czar's 
palace  at  Moscow  —  how  in  the  general  confusion  the 
order  to  relieve  the  royal  sentinels  was  not  issued  by 
the  proper  authority,  and  how  the  heroic  fellows  paced 
back  and  forth  upon  the  blazing  balustrades  as  if  they 
were  on  parade,  until  the  falling  walls  buried  them 
from  sight. 

There  was  an  example  of  fidelity  to  duty  set  before 
the  world !  It  was  an  example  not  only  to  the  soldier 
guarding  his  sacred  trust,  but  to  all  men  in  all  stations 
and  conditions  of  life. 

What  seem  to  be  little  duties  are  as  binding  upon  us 
as  those  which  may  gain  for  us  greater  glory  and  admi- 
ration. The  regular  army  soldier  is  taught  to  be  as 
faithful  in  the  care  of  his  horse  and  of  his  wardrobe  as 
in  the  performance  of  his  graver  duties  on  the  battle- 
field. 

Now,  can  you  tell  me  why  the  sense  of  the  impera- 
tiveness of  duty  should  be  so  especially  prominent  in 
the  mind  of  the  soldier  ?  Why  more  so  than  in  the 
minds  of  men  in  general  ? 

Julia  Taylor.  It  is  no  more  so  than  in  the  minds  of 
other  faithful  people. 

Dr.  Dix.  Very  true.  Heroic  fidelity  to  duty  is  by  no 
means  confined  to  those  whose  trade  is  war.  There  are 
cowards,  traitors,  and  shirks  in  the  army  as  well  as 
elsewhere.  From  the  earliest  ages,  however,  the  soldier 
has  been  a  favorite  proverb  of  devotion  to  duty,  and  an 
idea  so  general  must  have  some  foundation  in  truth. 

Isabelle  Anthony.  One  reason  is,  that  bravery  is  so 
much  admired,  and  cowardice  so  much  despised. 

Dr.  Dix.  That  is  doubtless  a  part  of  the  explana- 
tion. But  to  be  brave  is  not  the  soldier's  only  duty  : 
his  first  and  greatest  obligation  is  to  obey  orders. 

27iomas  Dunn.     I   think   the   chief   reason   is,  that 


18  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

there  is  so  much  depending  on  his  doing  his  duty  faith- 
fully. If  he  sleeps  on  his  post,  the  safety  of  the  whole 
army  is  endangered  ;  if  he  is  cowardly  in  battle,  the  vic- 
tory is  lost ;  if  he  is  disobedient  to  orders,  there  can  be 
no  discipline,  and  without  discipline  an  army  is  only  a 
mob. 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes  ;  that  is  the  explanation  —  necessity/. 
Fidelity  is  indispensable  to  efficiency.  An  army  com- 
posed of  untrustworthy  and  disobedient  soldiers  would 
be  like  a  watch  —  if  such  a  thing  is  conceivable  —  in 
which  the  wheels  should  turn  or  not  as  they  individu- 
ally chose ;  or,  to  carry  out  my  former  comparison,  like 
a  universe  in  which  the  atoms  should  obey  the  laws  of 
attraction  and  repulsion  or  not  according  to  their  sov- 
ereign pleasure.  Such  an  army  would  be,  as  Dunn  says, 
a  mob  :  such  a  universe  would  be  chaos. 

Now,  boys  and  girls,  each  one  of  us  is  like  a  soldier 
in  an  army  —  with  this  difference  :  however  we  might 
wish  to  do  so,  we  can  neither  resign  nor  desert.  We 
must  ever  remain  parts  of  the  great  whole.  Each  of  us 
is  a  little  wheel  in  the  great  mechanism,  and  if  we  do 
not  do  our  share  of  the  turning,  or  if  we  turn  in  the 
wrong  direction,  we  do  so  much  to  block  the  machinery, 
to  disturb  the  general  harmony  that  might  prevail. 
Why  should  any  of  us  feel  the  sense  of  imperative  duty 
less  strongly  than  the  brave,  true  soldier  ?  WTiy 
should  man,  the  apex  in  the  pyramid  of  being,  be  less 
obedient  to  the  laws  of  his  existence,  less  faithful  to  his 
duty,  than  the  wheels  of  his  watch,  than  the  ant  or  the 
bee,  than  the  minutest  atom  that  helps  to  hold  the  uni- 
verse together  and  keep  it  in  harmonious  motion  ? 


IV. 

"CREDIT,"   AND  OTHER  "REWARDS  OF  MERIT." 

Dr.  Dix.  During  my  eulogy  on  things  and  the  lower 
animals,  last  week,  for  always  fulfilling  the  ends  for 
which  they  exist,  it  was  objected  that  they  deserve  no 
"credit"  for  doing  so,  because  they  cannot  do  other- 
wise. Well,  as  I  replied  then,  who  does  deserve  credit 
for  simply  doing  his  duty  ? 

Josei)h  Cracklin.  When  a  man  pays  a  debt,  it  is  put 
to  his  "  credit "  on  the  ledger. 

Dr.  Dix  [smlUng'].  That  sounds  like  a  very  clever 
answer  ;  but  it  is  only  a  play  upon  words.  Even  things 
deserve  credit  in  that  sense  of  the  word.  The  farmer 
credits  a  field  with  the  crop  that  he  considers  no  more 
than  his  due  for  the  labor  and  money  he  has  expended 
upon  it.  When  Cracklin  made  the  remark  that  "  things 
deserve  no  credit,"  he  used  the  word  in  an  entirely  dif- 
ferent sense,  that  of  commendation  for  positive  moral 
virtue.  A  man  who  merely  pays  his  debts  simply 
does  nH  do  wroiuj.  His  act  is  like  thousands  of  other 
acts,  neither  positive  nor  negative  so  far  as  their  moral 
nature  is  concerned ;  whereas  the  man  who  not  only 
pays,  but  gives  from  benevolent  motives,  is  "  credited  " 
with  an  act  of  positive  moral  virtue. 

Thomas  Dunn.  But  did  n't  we  decide,  a  fortnight 
ago,  that  kindness,  charity,  generosity  were  only  debts 
that  we  owe  our  fellow-men  ? 

Dr.  Dix  \_laur/hing'].  AYe  seem  to  have  stumbled 
upon  one  of  those  ethical  subtleties  that  I  was  so  anx- 
ious to  avoid.  It  is  not  so  subtle,  however,  as  it  seems. 
Words  often  have  a  very  diifereut  force,  according  as 


20  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

their  application  is  higli  or  low.  We  say,  for  instance, 
that  this  building  is  stationary.  It  is  so  only  with  ref- 
erence to  the  earth  on  which  it  stands.  Referred  to 
the  heavens,  we  know  that  it  is  in  rapid  motion.  So 
that  which  may  not  be  a  debt  in  the  business  sense, 
may  be  a  most  binding  debt  in  the  moral  sense.  The 
payment  of  such  moral  debts  has  positive  moral  virtue, 
and  is  entitled  to  moral  credit.  Let  us  consider  this 
moral  credit,  as  distinguished  from  business  credit. 

It  is  a  part  of  the  natural  and  just  reward  of  well- 
doing. The  love  of  the  approbation  of  our  fellow-men 
is  implanted  in  us  by  nature,  and  is  entirely  commend- 
able, if  properly  regulated.  There  is  no  motion  with- 
out a  motor.  The  steam-engine  will  not  move  without 
steam,  neither  will  man  act  without  a  motive.  He 
labors  for  food  and  other  necessaries  and  comforts  of 
life.  Without  reward  of  some  sort  he  will  not  act, 
and  this  is  right.  As  I  said,  the  approval  of  his  fellow- 
men  is  one  of  these  rewards.  But  suppose  it  is  the 
only  or  chief  motive  for  doing  good.  You  have  read  of 
a  class  of  men  who  give  alms  that  they  ma}'"  be  seen  of 
men.  You  know  what  is  said  of  them :  "  They  have 
their  reward."  Do  you  not  detect  a  subtle  sarcasm  in 
that  laconic  awarding  of  the  prize  of  "  credit "  ?  Are 
they  really  entitled  even  to  the  poor  reward  they  re- 
ceive ?  If  men  knew  their  actual  motive,  would  they 
receive  it  ?  No ;  in  order  that  their  credit  may  be 
justly  earned,  it  must  be  only  a  secondary  motive  of 
action.  And  the  same  may  be  said  of  all  other  re- 
wards which  appeal  to  our  selfish  passions  and  desires. 
You  may  name  some  of  the  motives  which  impel  men 
to  do  good  and  shun  evil. 

Isahelle  Anthony.  I  think  the  most  general  and 
powei'ful  motive  is  expressed  in  the  old  copy-book  line, 
"  Be  virtuous  and  you  will  be  happy." 

Frank  WiUiams.  People  are  afraid  they  won't  get 
to  heaven  if  they  are  not  good. 


CREDIT,  AND  OTHER  REWARDS  OF  MERIT.       21 

Dr.  Dix.  And  what  do  you  think  of  such  motives, 
unmixed  with  others  ? 

Isabelle  Anthony.     I  think  they  are  purely  selfish. 

Dr.  Dix.  Do  you  think  they  are  entitled  to  much  of 
the  credit  we  are  speaking  of  ? 

Isabelle  Anthony.     No,  sir. 

Dr.  Dix.  Suppose  no  such  rewards  were  offered,  — 
suppose  —  if  such  a  thing  is  conceivable  —  that  virtue 
did  not  gain  the  approval  of  our  fellow-men  or  lead 
to  happiness,  what  do  you  think  the  effect  would  be  on 
general  human  character  ? 

Jane  Simpson.     There  would  n't  be  much  good  done. 

Thomas  Dunn.  I  do  not  think  there  would  be  any 
good  at  all. 

Dr.  Dix.  So  you  think  all  good  acts  have  at  bottom 
some  selfish  motive  ? 

Thomas  Dunn.     It  seems  to  me  that  it  must  be  so. 

Dr.  Dix.  Do  you  think  the  Good  Samaritan  was 
selfish  ? 

Thomas  Dunn.  He  might  have  been  purely  so.  He 
could  n't  help  pitying  the  man  he  saw  suffering.  Pity 
is  no  more  truly  an  act  of  the  will,  I  suppose,  than  sur- 
prise, or  fright,  or  any  other  sudden  emotion.  His  pity 
caused  him  a  kind  of  suffering,  and  he  took  the  most 
direct  and  effectual  way  of  relieving  it. 

Dr.  Dix.     And  so  he  was  entitled  to  no  credit  ? 

Thomas  Dunn.  I  don't  say  that.  I  only  say  that 
his  good  act  might  have  been  purely  selfish.  If  my 
head  aches,  I  try  to  relieve  it.  I  do  the  same  when  my 
heart  aches. 

Besides,  he  might  have  heard  of  its  being  "  more 
blessed  to  give  than  to  receive,"  and  he  might  have  been 
business-like  enough  to  do  that  which  would  secure  to 
himself  the  greater  blessing. 

Julia  Taylor  [_indignantly'\.  I  don't  believe  it  pos- 
sible for  him  to  have  had  any  such  sordid  thoughts.  I 
don't  believe  the  most  remote  thought  of  himself  or  of 


22  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

rewards  of  any  kind  entered  his  noble  heart.  I  believe 
his  act  was  one  of  the  purest  and  most  unselfish  benev- 
olence. 

Dr.  Dix.  Miss  Taylor's  supposition  is  at  least  as 
reasonable  as  yours,  Dunn.  I  had  no  idea  you  were  such 
a  cynic. 

Thomas  Dunn.  You  invited  us  to  express  our  views 
without  restraint. 

Dr.  Dix.  Certainly.  I  am  not  reproaching  you  for 
expressing  your  views ;  I  am  only  surprised  that  such 
fully  developed  cynicism  should  come  from  such  young 
lips. 

Thomas  Dunn.  I  merely  repeated  what  I  have  heard 
from  older  lips.  But  I  only  said  what  might  be  pos- 
sible. 

Dr.  Dix  \_more  graciously'].  But  what  in  your  heart 
you  felt  is  not  probable.  That  is  not  the  way  you 
ordinarily  judge  your  fellow-beings.  Only  those  with- 
out virtue  themselves  disbelieve  in  its  existence  in 
others ;  only  those  without  benevolence  themselves  be- 
lieve others  destitute  of  that  virtue. 

Thoinas  Dunn.  But  the  Good  Samaritan  was  not 
one  of  my  fellow-beings  ;  he  was  only  an  imaginary 
character,  after  all. 

Dr.  Dix.  He  stands  for  the  good  heart  of  all  man- 
kind. In  maligning  him,  you  malign  your  race.  Don't 
lose  your  faith  in  human  nature,  Dunn.  It  would  be 
one  of  the  greatest  losses  you  could  suffer.  There  is  no 
doubt  that  selfish  motives  actuate  a  great  amount  of  the 
good  that  is  done  in  the  world ;  but,  thank  heaven,  not 
all,  nor  nearly  all.  The  mother  thinks  only  of  her  be- 
loved child  in  danger.  She  thinks  no  more  of  herself 
than  the  planet  thinks  of  itself  as  it  wheels  unswerv- 
ingly in  its  celestial  orbit.  The  hero  who  clings  to  the 
lever  of  his  engine  as  it  hurries  him  on  to  his'  death 
thinks  only  of  the  hundreds  of  precious  lives  entrusted 
to  his  care.     He   has   no   time  to  think   of  the   glory 


CREDIT,  AND  OTHER  REWARDS  OF  MERIT.      23 

"wliich  his  eyes  shall  never  see,  or  of  the  fame  of  which 
his  ears  shall  never  hear.  Napoleon's  soldiers  may 
have  thought  of  la  gloire,  as  they  marched  on  to  their 
fatal  Lodi ;  but  it  was  not  that  alone  wliich  led  them 
on :  there  was  besides  the  irresistible  imx^ulse  to  do 
their  duty  because  it  was  their  duty. 


GOOD  BOYS  AND   "FUN." 

Dr.  Dix.  The  other  morning  I  said  that  I  took  it  for 
granted  that  all  here  feel  a  sincere  desire  to  improve  in 
character.  Now,  I  am  a  pretty  fair  reader  of  counte- 
nances, and  I  must  confess  that  I  noticed  what  seemed 
to  me  a  hesitating  look  here  and  there.  I  will  not  ask 
any  one  to  speak  for  himself ;  but  I  wish  some  of  you 
would  express  what  you  suppose  may  possibly  be  the 
feeling  of  others. 

James  Murphy.  Please,  sir,  good  boys  don't  amount 
to  anything  out  of  school  hours.     \_Laughter.'] 

Dr.  Dix  \_gracioti.sly'].  Thank  you,  Murphy,  for  your 
free  expression  of  opinion.  I  have  urged  you  to  express 
your  views  without  restraint,  and  I  am  glad  that  one, 
at  least,  has  shown  his  willingness  to  do  so.  If  what 
Murphy  says  is  true,  I  confess  it  is  a  new  fact  to  me. 
Now,  will  you  please  be  a  little  more  definite.  What 
do  bad  boys  "  amount  to  "  out  of  school  hours  more  than 
good  boys  ? 

James  Murphy.  Why,  sir,  good  boys  are  afraid  of  a 
little  fun,  and  —  and  —  they  don't  know  how  to  have 
any  fun,  any  way. 

Edicard  Williams.    They  are  n't  so  smart  as  bad  boys. 

Richard  Jones.  It 's  all  well  enough  for  girls  to  be 
good  ;  but  with  hoys  it  is  different. 

Sally  Jones  [ivith  jealous  indignation'].  Girls  are  just 
as  bad  and  smart  as  boys  are  !  \_Loud  laughter,  in  which 
the  Doctor  himself  jo  ins. ~\ 

Dr.  Dix.  Our  young  friends  of  the  Sixth  Class  show 
a  spirit  of  competition  worthy  of  a  better  cause,  which, 


GOOD  BOYS  AND  ''FUN:'  25 

whether  it  be  so  candidly  expressed  in  words  or  not, 
unfortunately  prevails  among  many  of  larger  growth. 
I  trust  they  have  not  expressed  the  actual  public  senti- 
ment of  Eoom  No.  6.  At  all  events,  they  have  furnished 
us  with  a  subject  for  our  Talk  this  morning. 

"  Good  bops  donH  amount  to  anythlmj  out  of  school 
hoiirs,''  because  '■'theij  are  afraid  of  a  little  funP 

Now,  whether  that  is  a  fact  to  be  lamented  or  not  de- 
pends on  what  you  mean  by  "  fun."  If  you  mean  mali- 
cious mischief,  the  inflicting  of  injury  or  annoyance  upon 
others  for  the  sake  of  the  pleasure  it  may  afford  to  the 
perpetrators,  or  if  you  mean  indulgence  in  immoral  or 
injurious  pleasures,  then  I  must  admit  that  you  are 
perfectly  right  when  you  say  that  good  boys  and  girls 
are  afraid  of  it.  But  is  such  fear  a  thing  to  be  ashamed 
of  ?  There  are  two  kinds  of  fear,  that  of  the  coward, 
and  that  of  the  hero.  The  bravest  soldier  is  mortally 
afraid  of  one  thing —  disgrace.  The  noblest  soul  shrinks 
in  terror  from  dishonor. 

"Without  this  kind  of  fear  the  highest  kind  of  cour- 
age cannot  exist.  The  man  that  boasts  that  he  is  not 
afraid  of  anybody  or  anything  is  most  likely  to  be  an 
arrant  coward  at  heart.  Everybody  is,  by  this  time, 
familiar  with  the  story  of  the  New  York  regiment  re- 
cruited from  the  worst  criminals  and  "  toughs,"  —  how 
it  was  confidently  expected  that  they  would  show  at 
least  one  virtue,  that  of  desperate  courage,  and  how, 
to  everybody's  amazement,  —  no,  not  everybody's,  for 
there  were  some  that  already  understood  the  true  rela- 
tion between  manhood  and  vice,  —  they  proved  as  ut- 
terly worthless  on  the  battlefield  as  in  the  camp,  show- 
ing that  the  only  danger  they  were  not  afraid  of  was 
that  of  shame  and  disgrace.  One  of  the  most  valuable 
lessons  our  great  war  taught  was,  that  the  best  men  make 
the  best  and  the  bravest  soldiers.  He  that  is  truest  to 
his  duty  in  peace  will  be  the  most  certain  to  be  true  to 
his  flag  in  war.     So  much  for  the  good  boy's  fear. 


26  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

"  Good  hoys  clonH  know  how  to  have  fun,  any  wayP 

Assuming  for  the  present  that  the  word  fun  has  been 
correctly  defined,  I  tliink  you  will  all  agree  with  me 
that  it  would  be  a  most  blessed  thing  for  the  world  if 
all  knowledge  of  it  were  forever  lost.  There  are  some 
kinds  of  knowledge  which  are  a  terrible  loss  rather  than 
a  gain.  Many  and  many  a  youth  knows  altogether  too 
much  of  certain  things,  and  not  enough  of  others,  for 
his  OAvn  happiness  and  good. 

There  is  a  kind  of  "  fun  "  that  is  anything  but  funny 
in  its  results,  a  kind  that  brings  far  more  tears  than 
laughter.  This  is  the  kind  that  the  good  boy  neither 
knows  nor  wishes  to  know  how  to  have. 

"  Good  boys  are  not  so  '  stnaH '  as  bad  boysP 

I  presume  that  '*  smart "  is  here  to  be  taken  in  its 
American  sense,  as  meaning  clever,  able,  energetic.  If 
so,  I  confess  that  the  idea  expressed  is  a  novel  one  to 
me.  Does  it  require  more  cleverness,  ability,  energy, 
to  do  wrong  than  to  do  right  ?  Most  people  find  it 
quite  the  reverse.  Which  is  easier,  to  give  a  wrong 
solution  of  a  mathematical  problem  or  the  right  one  ? 
Any  one  can  answer  a  difficult  question  wrongly  ;  only 
the  "  smart "  ones  can  answer  it  correctly.  It  is  the 
same  in  the  moral  as  in  the  intellectual  field;  to  do 
right  requires  effort,  power ;  to  do  wrong  generally  re- 
quires neither. 

Joseph  Cracldin.  I  have  heard  my  father  say  that  a 
rascal  will  work  harder  to  steal  a  dollar  than  an  honest 
man  will  to  earn  ten. 

Dr.  Dix.  A  very  wise  and  true  saying  it  is,  too.  But 
the  effort  I  am  speaking  of  now  is  the  effort  of  power, 
cleverness,  ability,  energy  —  not  the  effort  of  weakness 
and  folly.  The  making  of  great  efforts  does  not  neces- 
sarily indicate  power.  A  fool  will  work  harder  to  ac- 
complish nothing  than  a  wise  man  will  to  build  a  ship. 
Then,  again,  some  kinds  of  effort,  desperate  as  they  may 
seem,  are  much  easier  to  make  than  others.    Your  rascal 


GOOD  BOYS  AND   '' FUN^  27 

would  find  it  harder  to  make  up  his  mind  to  honestly 
earn  one  of  the  honest  man's  ten  dollars  than  to  work 
day  and  night  to  steal  a  hundred, 

No,  it  is  not  true  that  evil  requires  more  power  than 
good.  Men  are  wicked  because  it  is  easier  to  be  wicked 
than  it  is  to  be  good.  Like  the  lightning,  they  follow 
the  path  of  least  resistance. 

Susan  Perkins.  "The  way  of  the  transgressor,"  I 
have  always  been  told,  "  is  hard^ 

Dr.  Dix.     Ah,  that  comes  later. 

Julia  Taylor.  Don't  we  often  hear  it  said  in  praise  of 
certain  good  people,  that  they  find  it  easier  to  do  right 
than  wrong,  —  that  it  comes  more  natural  to  them  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  I  am  glad  you  asked  the  question,  for  it 
suggests  the  most  striking  and  admirable  characteristic 
of  all  kinds  of  power,  moral  as  well  as  intellectual  and 
physical  —  the  ease  with  which  it  accomplishes  its  re- 
sults. The  athlete  does  without  apparent  effort  what 
might  be  an  impossibility  for  the  ordinary  man.  The 
genius  dashes  oft"  in  an  hour  a  poem  that  we  common 
mortals  could  not  produce  in  a  lifetime  of  effort.  How 
have  these  good  people  you  speak  of  attained  their 
power  for  good  ?  By  long-continued  perseverance  in  the 
paths  of  virtue.  That  which  you  say  "  comes  natural " 
to  them  is  simply  the  second  nature  of  habit. 

Jane  Simpson.  Is  all  virtue  only  second  nature? 
Are  there-  not  some  people  who  seem  to  have  been 
born  good  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Certainly  some  people  inherit  better  natures 
than  others,  just  as  some  .inherit  more  vigorous  bodies 
and  keener  intellects.  We  are  not  all  favored  alike. 
The  point  I  am  urging  is,  that  good  requires  more  power 
than  evil ;  whether  inherited  or  acquired  is  not  now  the 
question.  This  power  may  be  inherited  in  vastly  differ- 
ent degrees  by  different  individuals  ;  but  one  great  truth 
I  want  to  impress  upon  you :  Every  virtuous  life  that 
has  ever  been  lived  has  been  a  life  of  persistent  effort. 


VI. 

VIRTUE  IS  STRENGTH:   VICE  IS  WEAKNESS. 

Dr.  Dix.  Every  virtuous  life  that  has  ever  been  lived 
has  been  a  life  of  persistent  effort. 

Let  no  one  palliate  liis  own  self-indulgence  and  belit- 
tle another's  self-denial  by  saying,  "  It  is  easy  for  him 
to  be  good,  he  could  n't  be  bad  if  he  tried."  Vice  p^r 
se  is  always  easier  than  virtue.  The  apparent  excep- 
tion I  have  already  explained.  If  there  are  those  of 
such  exalted  virtue  that  it  seems  well-nigh  impossible 
for  them  to  go  wrong,  it  is  because  of  their  strength. 
Their  inability  is  like  that  of  the  athlete  who  cannot 
act  the  invalid,  the  giant  who  cannot  be  a  pygmy.  I 
say  again,  vice  jper  se  is  always  easier  than  virtue :  self- 
indulgence  is  always  easier  than  self-denial ;  to  resist 
temptation  is  always  more  difficult  than  to  yield  ;  to  ut- 
ter the  angry  word  or  strike  the  angry  blow  requires 
far  less  power  than  to  restrain  the  tongue  or  withhold 
the  hand. 

Joseph  CracMin  \j)ertly,  looking  about  for  applause'\. 
Some  men  have  found  out  that  there  was  considerable 
power  in  one  of  Sullivan's  angry  blows.  \_Lai(ghter, 
Trior e  or  less  restrained.^ 

Dr.  Dix  [with  cold  dispdeasure'].  We  have  been 
speaking  of  "  smartness,"  and  we  have  thus  far  used  the 
word  in  its  colloquial  sense.  When  correctly  used,  how- 
ever, it  has  for  one  of  its  meanings  shallow  aggressive- 
ness of  speech  or  manner,  with  the  added  notion  of  im- 
pertinence. I  think  your  attempted  witticism,  Cracklin, 
and  more  particularly  your  manner  of  making  it,  was  a 
very  good  illustration  of  that  kind  of  smartness.    It  was 


VIRTUE  IS  STRENGTH:   VICE  IS   WEAKNESS.    29 

shallow,  because  it  betrayed  a  total  failure  to  compre- 
hend the  svibject  we  were  discussing;  and,  in  fact,  had 
not  the  slightest  bearing  upon  it.  We  were  speaking 
of  a  power  far  greater  than  that  of  a  puny  arm  of  flesh 
and  bone,  even  that  of  the  notorious  bully  you  named. 
It  was  impertinent,  that  is,  not  pertinent,  for  the  same 
reason.  It  was  aggressive  —  not  in  respectfully  ex- 
pressing honest  dissent,  which  would  have  been  proper 
and  welcome  —  but  in  interrupting  our  discussion  for 
the  mere  sake  of  displaying  your  wit. 

Joseph  Cracklin.     I  beg  your  pardon. 

Dr.  Dix.  That  is  "  smart "  in  the  colloquial  sense, 
Cracklin.  It  is  right,  and  therefore  strong.  The  other 
was  wrong  and  therefore  weak.  We  will  let  the  one 
offset  the  other.  And  now  let  us  return  from  the  di- 
gression. 

Virtue  is  a  constant  resistance  to  force,  which  tends 
to  draw  the  soul  to  its  ruin  ;  vice  is  the  simple,  passive 
yielding  to  that  force.  The  universal  experience  of 
mankind  has  led  to  the  comparison  of  virtue  to  an  as- 
cent hard  to  climb,  and  of  vice  to  a  descent  down  which 
it  is  easy  to  sink.  What  does  Virgil  say  on  this  sub- 
ject, Miss  Perkins  ? 

Susan  Perkins.  "  Facilis  descensus  Averno  ;  seel  re- 
vocare  gradiim,  —  hoc  opus,  hie  labor  est."  ^ 

Jonathan  Tower.  But  simply  because  virtue  is  a 
climbing  and  vice  a  sinking,  I  don't  see  how  it  follows 
that  the  good  are  necessarily  cleverer  or  more  power- 
ful. I  happen  to  know  some  clever  people  who  are  not 
regarded  as  very  good,  and  I  also  knoAV  some  very  good 
people  who  seem  to  me  rather  weak  than  strong. 

Br.  Dix.  You  have  evidently  misunderstood  me. 
Perhaps  you  thought  I  was  speaking  of  persons,  when, 
in  reality,  I  was  speaking  of  actions. 

Jonathan  Tower.     Pardon  me,  Dr.  Dix,  I  have  sup- 

1  The  descent  to  Avemiis  is  easy ;  but  to  return,  —  this  is  the  diffi- 
culty, this  the  task. 


30  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

posed  from  the  beginning  that  the  subject  was  one  of 
persons.  I  thought  the  very  question  we  were  dis- 
cussing was,  whether,  as  Williams  expressed  it,  "  bad 
boys  are  smarter  than  good  boys." 

Dr.  Dix.  Not  precisely.  Virtue  and  vice  is  the  sub- 
ject we  are  discussing.  I  asked  at  the  outset  whether 
it  requires  more  power  or  cleverness  to  do  wrong  than 
to  do  right,  and  Virgil's  famous  epigram,  quoted  just 
before  you  sjDoke,  treats  of  actions,  not  of  persons. 

Jonathan  Toiver.  I  cannot  understand  the  essential 
difference  between  speaking  of  actions  and  speaking  of 
actors.     Does  not  either  word  imply  the  other  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  There  is  a  very  essential  difference,  my 
boy,  between  speaking  of  an  action  and  speaking  of  the 
actor.  Though,  as  you  say,  one  implies  the  other,  yet 
I  should  not  necessarily  pronounce  one  good  or  bad, 
weak  or  strong,  because  the  other  is.  We  are  told  that 
one  may  hate  sin,  but  love  the  sinner.  Wise  people 
very  often  do  foolish  things,  and  foolish  people,  wise 
ones.  So,  though  I  may  say  with  perfect  truth  that  all 
evil  is  weakness  and  folly,  and  that  all  good  is  strength 
and  wisdom,  I  could  not  say  with  truth  that  all  good 
men  are  in  all  respects  strong  and  wise,  or  that  all 
bad  men  are  in  all  respects  weak  and  foolish.  History 
is  full  of  famous  wicked  men,  and  we  all  know  plenty 
of  good  souls,  strong  and  wise  only  in  their  goodness. 

In  general,  however,  it  is  fair  to  presume  that  among 
the  doers  of  wise  things  there  are  more  wise  men  than 
among  the  doers  of  foolish  things,  and  vice  versa.  From 
this  prestimption  alone  I  should  feel  perfectly  safe  in 
declaring  that  by  far  the  larger  share  of  the  world's  in- 
tellect and  power  is  arrayed  on  the  side  of  virtue.  And 
when  we  look  abroad  we  find  that  universal  testimony 
confirms  the  deduction.  The  most  intelligent  and  pow- 
erful nations  are,  on  the  whole,  the  most  virtuous. 

Charles  Fox.  I  have  read  that  criminals  are,  as  a 
class,  men  of  a  very  low  order  of  intellect. 


VIRTUE  IS  STRENGTH:   VICE  IS  WEAKNESS.     31 

Dr.  Dix.  A  state  prison  warden  of  many  years'  ex- 
perience once  told  me  that  the  most  intellectual  prisoner 
that  had  ever  been  under  his  charge  was  distinguished, 
not  for  any  special  breadth  or  depth  of  mental  power, 
but  simply  for  an  intense  keenness  of  cunning,  which 
operated  in  the  narrow  circle  of  first  defrauding  his 
victims,  and  then  attempting  to  outwit  his  keepers. 
Considered  by  itself,  there  is  a  wonderful  amount  of  in- 
genuity displayed  in  the  invention  of  instruments  and 
other  aids  to  the  commission  of  crime ;  but  how  utterly 
insignificant  it  appears,  both  in  quantity  and  quality, 
when  compared  with  that  employed  for  the  benefit  of 
mankind  ! 

Of  course,  the  single  instance  mentioned  by  the 
warden  would  not  prove  a  universal  rule  ;  but  it  is  safe 
to  say  that  there  is  some  fatal  deficiency  in  the  intel- 
lectual as  well  as  in  the  moral  make-up  of  every  thor- 
oughly bad  man. 

In  the  conflict  between  good  and  evil  that  is  ever  in 
progress,  it  is  a  most  fortunate  thing  for  us  all  that  the 
enormous  preponderance  of  intellect  and  power  is  on  the 
side  of  good.  It  is  to  this  that  we  owe  the  practically 
perfect  safety  with  which  we  go  unarmed  and  unattended 
from  ocean  to  ocean.  The  bad  are  everywhere,  and  fain 
would  make  us  their  victims  ;  but  the  strong  right  arm 
and  the  vigilant  eye  of  justice-loving  humanity  are  ever 
about  us,  and  with  so  mighty  a  champion,  we  look 
upon  evil  lurking  in  its  dark  caves  and  feel  no  fear. 

Archibald  Watson.  Men  are  robbed  and  murdered 
sometimes. 

Dr.  Dix.  Alas,  yes.  We  rarely  take  up  a  newspaper 
without  seeing  accounts  of  thefts,  robberies,  and  mur- 
derous outrages.  It  is  not  that  evil  is  not  mighty  and 
prevalent,  but  that  good  is  vastly  more  mighty  and 
vastly  more  prevalent.  So  great  is  the  difference  that, 
as  I  said,  we  have  practically  no  fears  for  ourselves  or 
for  our  friends.     So  little,  as  a  rule,  do  we  actually 


32  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

suffer  of  wrong  from  our  fellow-men,  so  little  do  we 
suffer  from  the  combined  efforts  of  all  the  intellect  and 
power  of  the  wicked,  that,  in  order  to  complain  at  all, 
we  pour  out  our  bitter  bewailings  upon  some  petty 
three-penny  tax  or  other  that  we  feel  to  be  unjust ! 
Think  of  it,  scholars  !  Think  what  might  be  the  con- 
dition of  the  world  to-day  if  evil  were  actually  more 
clever  and  strong  than  good  !  What  would  become  of 
our  asylums,  hospitals,  and  life-saving  stations ;  our 
schools,  churches,  and  libraries  ?  What  would  become 
of  veneration  for  the  aged,  of  respect  and  homage  to 
woman,  and  of  the  almost  universal  value  placed  upon 
sacred  human  life  ?  In  short,  what  would  become  of 
the  law  and  order,  national  and  international,  which 
protects  not  only  the  humblest  subject  or  citizen  in  his 
rights,  but  the  feeblest  state  in  its  independence  ? 

Frank  Williams.  Dr.  Dix,  when  I  said  that  good 
boys  were  not  so  smart  as  bad  boys,  I  was  n't  talking  of 
men,  I  was  talking  of  bo7/s. 

Dr.  Dix.  And,  pray,  what  should  make  a  difference  ? 
The  proverb  says,  "  The  boy  is  father  of  the  man." 
Our  other  proverb,  "  There  is  no  rule  without  excep- 
tions," applies  here,  of  course ;  but  you  will  find  it  to 
be  generally  the  case  that  the  bad  men  of  to-day  are  the 
bad  boys  of  twenty  years  ago,  and  vice  versa. 


VIL 
MORE  ABOUT  GOOD  BOYS  AND  "FUN." 

Dr.  Dlx.  One  of  the  specifications  in  the  recent 
indictment  of  the  typical  good  boy  was,  that  he  "  is 
afraid  of  a  little  fun,"  and  another  was  that  "  he  does  n't 
know  how  to  have  fun,  any  way." 

Defining  fun  as  malicious  mischief,  or  as  injurious 
pleasure,  we  admit  both  specifications,  with  no  palliat- 
ing circumstances. 

But  if  you  mean  by  fun  pure,  honest  enjoyment  of 
the  pleasures  so  lavishly  given  us  to  enjoy,  we  deny 
both  specifications. 

An  indispensable  requisite  to  the  highest  enjoyment 
is  a  healthy,  natural  condition  of  mind  and  body.  You 
have  all  heard  of  the  miserable  dyspeptic  who  finds  no 
pleasure  in  the  most  luxurious  table,  and  of  the  healthy 
hunger  which  finds  a  sweet  morsel  in  a  dry  crust.  The 
principle  applies  to  all  kinds  and  conditions  of  real 
enjoyment. 

Thornas  Dunn.  You  speak  of  real  enjoyment ;  do 
you  mean  to  imply  that  there  is  none  in  what  are  called 
forbidden  pleasures  —  that  wickedness  actually  renders 
men  incapable  of  real  enjoyment  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  I  mean  that  forbidden  pleasures  always 
entail  more  pain  in  the  end  than  pleasure.  So,  if  we 
strike  the  balance,  or  get  what  I  may  call  the  algebraic 
sum,  it  is  nothing  —  less  than  nothing.  I  mean  that 
every  sinful  indulgence  diminishes  the  power  of  enjoy- 
ing even  the  forbidden  pleasure  itself,  until  at  last  the 
power  of  enjoyment  of  the  good  or  the  bad  may  be 
utterly  lost. 


34  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

The  opium-eater  always  secures  the  greatest  effect 
from  his  first  close,  because  his  nerve-system  is  then  in 
its  most  vigorous  condition,  and  therefore  most  capable 
of  responding  to  the  stimulant.  His  next  dose  must  be 
larger  to  produce  an  equal  effect  upon  his  impaired 
susceptibility.  • 

Thomas  Dunn.  You  are  speaking  now  of  an  indul- 
gence which  we  all  know  to  be  injurious.  Are  there 
not  immoral  indulgences  which  are  not  necessarily  inju- 
rious, —  that  is,  I  mean,  to  the  health  ? 

D7\  Dix.     Do  you  know  of  any  such  ? 

Thomas  Dunn.  I  know  a  good  many  that  are  called 
immoral,  —  going  to  the  theatre,  for  instance,  or  dancing. 

Dr.  Dix.  I  cannot  see  how  anything  that  is  not  inju- 
rious to  the  mind,  body,  or  heart  can  be  immoral.  If 
drinking  wine  and  smoking  cigarettes  were  not  injuri- 
ous, they  would  not  be  sinful ;  if  malicious  pranks  upon 
our  fellow-pupils  were  not  injurious,  both  to  them  and 
much  more  so  to  ourselves,  —  for  health  of  body  is  not 
the  only  or  the  most  important  kind  of  health,  —  they 
would  not  be  forbidden  pleasures. 

Henri/  Fhlllijjs.  You  just  remarked,  Dr.  Dix,  that 
health  of  body  is  not  the  most  important  kind  of 
health. 

Dr.  Dix.     I  did. 

Ifenri/  Phillips.  Is  not  health  of  body  the  foundation 
of  mental  and  moral  health  ?  and  is  not  the  foundation 
of  anything  the  most  important  part  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  The  foundation  is  a  necessary  part,  but  not 
the  most  important.  That  which  rests  on  the  founda- 
tion, that  for  the  sake  of  which  the  foundation  exists,  is 
the  most  important.  As  to  whether  physical  health  is 
the  foundation  of  mental  and  moral  health,  we  say,  on 
general  principles,  that  if  one  member  of  an  organism 
suffers  all  will  suffer.  The  mind  suffers  with  the  body, 
the  body  with  the  mind,  and,  if  the  law  is  true,  the 
heart  must  suffer  with  both. 


MORE  ABOUT  GOOD  BOYS  AND  ''FUN."        35 

Louisa  Thompson.  It  does  not  seem  to  nie  that  the 
law  can  be  true.  Have  not  some  of  the  most  famous 
minds  been  found  in  inferior,  weakly,  and  diseased 
bodies,  from  old  ^sop  down  to  George  Eliot  ? 

Julia  Taylor.  And  do  we  not  often  hear  of  poor 
suffering  invalids  who  show  the  best  and  noblest  hearts  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes,  all  that  is  true.  Still  such  apparent 
exceptions  neither  prove  nor  disprove  the  law.  It  can 
never  be  known  whether  those  famous  intellects  were 
really  strengthened  or  brightened  by  physical  defects 
and  sufferings.  Disease  often  stimulates  the  faculties 
to  abnormal  but  short-lived  brilliancy ;  but  is  that  real 
strength  ?  We  do  not  look  upon  the  maniacal  strength 
which  fever  sometimes  gives  as  real  strength ;  cer- 
tainly not  as  we  look  upon  the  substantial  and  enduring 
strength  of  health.  Some  physiologists  regard  that 
which  we  call  genius  as  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a 
form  of  brain  disease. 

If  only  the  physically  feeble  were  intellectually  and 
morally  strong,  the  case  would  be  different;  but  the 
truth  is,  that  the  majority  of  the  world's  leaders  in 
great  moral  reforms  as  well  as  in  intellectual  achieve- 
ments have  been  blessed  with  bodily  health  and  vigor, 
have  had  the  mens  sana  in  corpore  sano.^ 

As  to  the  saintly  invalids  of  whom  Miss  Taylor  spoke, 
we  have  all  known  of  them ;  of  all  mankind  they  are 
most  deserving  of  love,  tender  sympathy,  and  admira- 
tion :  they  prove  to  us  that  disease  may  exert  a  most 
benign  influence  upon  men,  that  "as  gold  is  tried  by 
fire,  so  the  heart  is  tried  by  pain  :  "  they  show  us  what 
lessons  of  heroic  patience  and  sweet  resignation  may  be 
learned  by  physical  suffering.  Yet  who  knows  that  the 
hearts  even  of  these  sainted  sufferers  might  not  have 
throbbed  with  still  stronger  love  if  the  blood  that  vital- 
ized them  had  been  richer  and  warmer  ? 

Do  not,  I  pray  you,  misunderstand  me.     For  no  con- 

^  A  sound  rjind  in  a  sound  body. 


36  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

sideration  would  I  disparage  the  merits  of  any  of  my 
fellow-men,  —  least  of  all  those  who  most  deserve  our 
sympathy  and  appreciation  ;  nay,  our  emulation.  It  is 
their  fate  to  suffer  rather  than  to  do,  and  to  suffer  with 
godlike  patience  and  fortitude  is  even  nobler  than  to 
achieve  with  godlike  power ;  in  its  influence  upon 
other  hearts  and  lives,  even  its  achievements  may  be 
more  beneficent. 

But,  though  disease  may  sometimes  exert  a  most  holy 
influence,  it  is  not  only  never  to  be  sought,  but  it  is 
always  to  be  avoided  by  every  means  in  our  power,  — 
except  the  violation  of  a  higher  duty.  Body,  mind, 
and  heart  are  all  stronger,  better  qualified  to  do  their 
duty,  in  health  than  in  disease. 

And,  to  return  to  the  subject  with  which  we  began 
this  morning's  Talk,  one  of  our  duties  is  to  enjoi/.  We 
exist  not  only  to  make  others  happy,  but  to  be  happy 
ourselves.     Both  happiness  and  misery  are  contagious. 

Other  things  being  equal,  our  happiness  is  in  propor- 
tion to  our  health ;  and  again,  other  things  being  equal, 
our  health  is  in  proportion  to  our  goodness,  —  that  is, 
as  I  have  already  shown,  in  proportion  as  we  obey  the 
laws  of  our  being. 

Jonathan  Tower.  Dr.  Dix,  what  do  you  mean  by 
"  other  things  being  equal "  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  By  other  things,  I  mean  in  the  one  case 
character  and  external  circumstances,  and  in  the  other 
natural  constitution  and  external  circumstances.  Thus, 
the  bedridden  invalid  may  sing  with  joy,  while  the  vig- 
orous criminal  who  never  suffered  a  day's  illness  endures 
mental  tortures  that  only  he  and  such  as  he  knows  ;  or 
while  the  mother,  herself  in  perfect  health  perhaps, 
is  weeping  for  her  children,  and  will  not  be  comforted 
because  they  are  not.  Thus  also  one  with  inherited  dis- 
ease, or  one  placed  in  circumstances  beyond  his  control, 
or  one  heroically  discharging  his  duty,  may  to  the  very 
best  of  his  ability  obey  the  laws  of  his  being,  and  yet 


MORE  ABOUT  GOOD  BOYS  AND  ''FUN:'         37 

be  sick  unto  death ;  while  another  who  cares  little  for 
law  or  duty  may  live  on  in  comparative  health. 

But,  "  other  things  being  equal,"  both  health  and  hap- 
piness are  in  exact  proportion  to  goodness. 

"  The  good  bo//  does  n't  ktiow  how  to  have  fan  "  ?  I  tell 
you  he  is  the  only  one  who  does  know  how  to  have  it. 
Compare  his  cheek  ruddy,  his  eye  bright,  his  laugh  loud 
and  ringing,  his  pulses  bounding,  from  his  faithful  obe- 
dience to  nature's  laws  ;  his  brow  open  and  unclouded, 
his  heart  loving,  light,  and  hopeful,  from  his  obedience 
to  the  law  of  right,  —  compare  these  with  the  cheek 
pallid,  the  eye  listless,  the  blood  vitiated  and  sluggish, 
from  nature's  laws  violated ;  the  heart  heavy,  filled  with 
dull,  aching  discontent,  from  the  ever-living  sense  of 
wrongs  done  in  the  past  and  unrepented  in  the  present, 
—  compare  all  these,  I  say,  and  then  judge  who  it  is 
that  "knows  how  to  have  fun." 


VIII.  ^ 

CLEVERNESS  AND  COURAGE. 

Helen  Saivyer.  Dr.  Dix,  I  think  we  are  all  convinced 
that  in  reality  the  intelligence,  power,  and  courage  of 
the  world  are  on  the  side  of  virtue  rather  than  vice ; 
and  yet  it  seems  to  me  that  it  is  very  common  for  even 
older  people  than  we  are  to  look  upon  good  people  as 
rather  slow  and  uninteresting,  and  upon  bad  people  — 
at  least  somewhat  bad  people  —  as  —  as  — 

Dr.  Dix.     As  fast  and  interesting  ? 

Helen  Sawyer.  As  more  clever,  and  enterprising,  and 
courageous,  and  all  that. 

Dr.  Dix.  Among  many  unthinking  people  no  doubt 
such  an  impression  prevails,  —  only,  however,  among 
those  who  know  very  little  of  what  real  goodness  is. 
If  there  is  any  cause  for  it,  aside  from  perversity  of 
heart  and  judgment,  it  must  consist  in  certain  advan- 
tages which  the  unscrupulous  possess  over  those  who 
are  restrained  by  their  sense  of  right  and  wrong.  To 
illustrate:  Witty  things  may  be  said  on  certain  occa- 
sions which  would  be  wrong  on  account  of  their  unkind- 
ness,  irreverence,  impropriety,  or  perhaps  their  profan- 
ity. A  good  man  would  not  say  them  even  if  they  came 
unbidden  into  his  mind  ;  a  bad  man  would.  There  are 
persons  who  cannot  be  witty  or  brilliant  without  being 
at  the  same  time  cruel,  immodest,  or  profane.  A  very 
cheap  kind  of  wit  and  brilliancy,  is  it  not  ? 

Again,  keen,  shrewd,  brilliant  acts  may  be  performed 
which  would  be  wrong  on  account  of  their  unkindness 
or  positive  dishonesty.  A  good  man  would  not  perform 
them,  not  because  he  lacks  the  shrewdness  or  the  bril- 


CLEVERNESS  AND  COURAGE.  39 

lianoy,  —  he  may  possess  these  qualities  or  he  may  not ; 
a  bad  man  would  not  hesitate,  if  he  thought  of  them, 
and  thus  he  might  gain  a  reputation  for  "  smartness  " 
and  enterprise  which  his  honest,  honorable  neighbor 
must  needs  forego.  Scholars,  do  you  knoAv  any  such 
clever  men  in  public  or  in  private  life  ?  Do  you  envy 
the  reputation  they  have  gained  ?  How  do  you  sup- 
pose they  are  regarded  in  the  secret  hearts  even  of  those 
who  profess  to  admire  them  ?  With  contempt, — yes, 
even  by  those  who  applaud  the  loudest.  Many  and  many 
a  time  I  have  seen  men  laughing  at  the  wicked  drollery 
or  cunning  of  some  smart  buffoon  or  scapegrace.  Did 
he  fondly  imagine  that  he  was  winning  their  real  ad- 
miration ?  Perhaps  he  did  not  care,  so  long  as  he  won 
their  noisy  applause ;  but  the  fact  is,  there  was  not  one 
of  them  who  did  not  despise  him  in  his  inmost  heart, 
not  one  of  them  who  would  not  feel  degraded  by  hav- 
ing him  at  his  own  table  or  fireside. 

Ai'cluhald  Watson.  Those  of  his  own  kind  Avould  n't 
feel  so,  would  they  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  I  believe  that  even  those  of  his  own  kind, 
congenial  spirits,  would,  way  down  deep,  feel  a  contempt 
for  him,  as  well  as  for  themselves  for  being  of  his  kind. 
There  is  implanted  somewhere  in  every  human  heart 
an  unconquerable  contempt  for  evil  and  admiration  for 
good.  Few  men  are.  so  abandoned  that  they  do  not 
honestly  wish  their  children  to  follow  a  path  different 
from  their  own.  There  are  times  in  the  lives  of  all  bad 
men  when  this  inner  sense  awakens,  and  they  feel  the 
impulse  to  escape  from  their  degradation ;  to  be  some- 
thing like  the  good  and  the  noble,  whom  they  cannot 
but  admire.  In  this  inner  sense,  which,  I  believe,  never 
utterly  dies,  lies  the  germ  of  hope  for  every  living  soul. 

For  a  reason  similar  to  that  I  have  given,  another 
common  impression  among  the  unthinking  is  that  the 
good  are  apt  to  be  wanting  in  hardy  courage.  A  bad 
man  will  fight  —  sometimes,  not  always  —  when  a  good 


40  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

man  will  not  simply  because  his  conscience  will  not  let 
him.  Fighting,  as  a  test  of  courage,  is  apt  to  be  greatly 
overestimated.  There  are  few  men,  either  good  or  bad, 
who  cannot  or  will  not  fight  on  occasion.  The  whole 
human  race  has  descended  from  a  fighting  ancestry. 
Every  war  has  demonstrated  this  fact ;  and  how  the 
best  compare  with  the  worst,  when  the  occasion  renders 
fighting  necessary  and  therefore  justifiable,  the  story  of 
the  New  York  regiment  to  which  I  have  already  alluded 
most  strikingly  illustrates.  When  fighting  is  neither 
necessary  nor  right,  it  generally  requires  more  real  cour- 
age to  resist  the  impulse  to  fight  than  to  yield  to  it, 
inasmuch  as  it  is  harder  for  most  men  to  endure  ridi- 
cule, the  suspicion  of  cowardice,  or  the  smarting  sense 
of  wrong  unavenged,  than  to  endure  physical  pain  and 
danger.  This  is  not  always  true,  of  course.  We  must 
admit  that  there  are  some  physical  cowards  who  refuse 
to  fight,  not  because  they  think  it  wrong,  but  because 
they  are  afraid  of  the  bullet,  or,  among  the  more  vul- 
gar, of  the  bloody  nose.  That  is  a  kind  of  peaceable- 
ness  which  is  not  goodness.  It  is  even  worse  than  the 
combativeness  of  the  wicked  man ;  for  physical  courage 
is  a  virtue,  —  one  of  a  low  order,  it  is  true,  when  unat- 
tended by  other  virtues,  one  which  we  share  with  the 
brute  creation,  but  still  a  virtue,  —  whereas  cowardice, 
whether  physical  or  moral,  is  not  only  no  virtue,  but 
one  of  the  most  justly  despised  of  all  despicable  traits. 
If,  then,  there  is  a  boy  among  you  who,  on  being  in- 
sulted, refuses  to  fight,  before  you  stigmatize  him  as  a 
coward,  satisfy  yourselves  ivhi/  he  refuses.  If  it  is  be- 
cause it  is  against  his  conscience,  admire  him,  honor 
him,  crown  him  with  the  olive  wreath  of  a  victor ;  foi 
he  is  a  conqueror  of  the  most  heroic  type,  he  is  greater 
than  one  that  taketh  a  city.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  it 
is  certain  —  but  how  can  you  know  ?  —  that  it  is  only 
because  he  is  afraid  of  a  black  eye  or  a  bloody  nose, 
why,  then  you  are  at  liberty  to  despise  him,  or  rathei 


CLEVERNESS  AND  COURAGE.  41 

his  cowardice,  a  little  more  even  than  you  despise  the 
cowardice  of  the  bully  who  insulted  him. 

Charles  Fox.  Why  do  you  say  cowardice  of  the  bully 
who  insulted  him  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Because  a  bully  is  almost  always  a  cow- 
ard. In  the  case  supposed  he  is  certain  to  be  one.  It 
requires  not  even  physical  courage  to  insult  one  who 
will  not  resent  the  insult. 

IS^ow,  boys,  don't  look  so  complacently  warlike.  I 
have  not  been  pronouncing  or  even  hinting  a  eulogy 
upon  the  "  manly  art."  I  said  distinctly  that  the  good 
boy  will  not  fight  unless  he  is  absolutely  compelled ; 
but  it  is  n't  because  he  is  afraid  to  fight :  the  only  thing 
he  is  afraid  of  is  ivrong.  And,  gii'ls,  don't  look  so  indif- 
ferent and  uninterested.  There  are  more  ways  of  fight- 
ing than  with  the  fists  —  there  are  other  wounds  than 
those  of  the  body.  Good  people  are  generally  terribly 
shocked  at  a  desperate  set-to  between  two  fiery-tem- 
pered, brawny-armed  fellows,  their  eyes  glaring,  their 
breasts  heaving,  their  muscles  straining,  their  blood, 
perhaps,  flowing.  And  well  they  may  be  shocked,  —  it 
is  a  disgraceful  scene,  worthy  only  of  game-cocks  and 
bull-dogs,  a  scene  that  rational  beings  should  be  ashamed 
of,  as  they  would  be  ashamed  of  wallowing  in  the  mud, 
grubbing  their  food  out  of  the  gutter,  or  of  any  other 
act  of  pure  bestiality.  But,  brutal  as  it  is,  and  disgust- 
ing to  all  persons  of  true  refinement,  there  are  other 
ways  of  fighting  that  do  not  bring  into  play  even  the 
virtues  of  brute  courage  and  fortitude,  ways  meaner 
and  more  contemptible,  if  less  brutish.  Better  be  bru- 
tish than  fiendish. 

Helen  Mar.     Are  those  the  ways  girls  fight  ? 

Dr.  Dix  \_join.ing  in  the  general  laughter'].  Did  I 
seem  to  imply  that  ?  If  I  did,  I  most  sincerely  beg 
your  pardon.  Those  ways  of  fighting  are  not  confined 
to  any  sex,  class,  or  age.  I  am  happy  to  believe  we 
have  as  little  of  them  in  this  school  as  in  any  civilized 
community  of  equal  number. 


42  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

But  the  time  approaches  to  engage  in  an  entirely 
different  kind  of  contest,  one  neither  mean  nor  brutal, 
but  most  honorable  and  ennobling. 

Helen  Mar.  Before  the  tocsin  sounds  for  that  strug- 
gle, may  I  ask  whether  the  desire  for  victory,  which 
must  be  the  chief  motive  in  all  contests,  is  not  in  itself 
purely  selfish  ?  The  expressions  "  magnanimous  foe," 
'*  generous  rivalry,"  and  the  like,  which  we  so  often 
hear,  have  always  seemed  to  me  somewhat  paradoxical. 
Even  in  our  studies,  the  desire  to  stand  first  involves 
the  desire  that  some  one  else  shall  stand  second.  How 
can  that  justly  be  called  magnanimous  or  generous  ? 

Dr.  D'lx.  The  question  does  you  great  credit,  Miss 
Mar.  But  we  are  none  of  us  accountable  for  the  pos- 
session or  lack  of  natural  endowments.  To  make  the 
best  use  of  those  we  possess  is  a  solemn  obligation  which 
must  be  evident  to  all.  If  we  outstrip  others  in  the  race, 
it  is  strong  presumptive  evidence  that  we  are  faithfully 
fulfilling  that  solemn  obligation,  and  we  are  justly  en- 
titled to  the  satisfaction  which  always  rewards  the 
performance  of  duty.  This  is  the  only  satisfaction  re- 
sulting from  victory  which  is  really  magnanimous  or 
generous.  If  we  desire  either  that  the  endowments  of 
others  shall  be  inferior  to  our  own,  or  that  they  shall 
neglect  them  for  the  sake  of  our  triumph,  we  are  not 
merely  selfish,  but  actually  malevolent. 

But  the  desire  to  do  something  better  than  has  yet 
been  done  is  neither  selfish  nor  malevolent.  It  is  grand, 
noble.  It  is  the  lever  which  has  lifted  the  race  of  men 
throughout  the  generations  of  the  past  to  higher  and 
higher  planes  of  being,  and  which  will  continue  to  lilt 
them  throughout  the  generations  to  come. 


IX. 
THE  BATTLE. 

Dr.  Dix.  Scholars,  it  is  not  my  intention  to  appro- 
priate any  part  of  this  short  period  to  individual  dis- 
cipline. The  time  is  to  be  kept  sacred  to  the  purpose 
originally  announced.  One  of  the  most  effective  means, 
however,  of  accomplishing  that  purpose  is  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  passing  occurrences  in  school  life,  and  I 
shall  begin  with  the  very  unpleasant  occurrence  of  yes- 
terday. 

In  last  week's  Talk  I  hoped  I  had  impressed  you  all 
with  not  only  the  wickedness,  but  the  vulgarity  also, 
the  low  brutality,  of  pugilistic  encounters.  I  learn  this 
morning,  however,  that  after  school  yesterday  two  young 
men,  from  whom  I  had  every  reason  to  expect  better 
things,  committed  the  very  fault  I  had  so  recently  con- 
demned. [^Hisses,  tvhich  the  Doctor's  raised  hand  in- 
stantly checks.'] 

I  can  account  for  the  unpleasant  circumstance  only 
in  one  of  two  ways :  Either  it  was  due  to  a  deliberate 
defiance  of  my  expressed  opinions  and  sentiments,  and 
in  deliberate  opposition  to  the  influence  I  was  trying  to 
exert  — 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.  Dr.  Dix,  I  ber/  you  will  not  think 
that. 

Archibald  Watson.  And  I,  too.  Dr.  Dix.  I  assure 
you  it  was  not  so. 

Dr.  Dix.  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  so  much  from  you 
both.  The  only  other  supposition,  then,  I  can  enter- 
tain is,  that  our  Talk  suggested  and  actually  led  to 
your   committing  the   offence  which  was   its   subject. 


44  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

Although,  as  I  have  implied,  your  formal  trial  and  pun- 
ishment must  be  reserved  for  another  hour,  yet  you 
may,  if  you  are  willing,  state  whether  this  supposition 
is  correct  or  not.     Jenkins  ? 

Geojfreij  Jenkins.  Well,  it  came  about  in  this  way  : 
We  got  to  talking  after  school  about  what  you  said 
about  fighting.  Watson  said  he  believed  every  fellow 
that  was  not  a  coward  would  fight  if  he  were  insulted. 
I  told  him  I  did  n't  believe  anything  of  the  sort.  He 
insisted  upon  it,  and  said  that  I  would  fight  myself  if  I 
were  insulted  badly  enough.  I  said  I  would  n't,  and  I 
was  no  coward  either.  He  said  he  would  like  to  see  it 
tested.  I  said  I  could  n^t  be  insulted,  any  way.  "  Oh," 
said  he,  "  so  that 's  the  kind  of  fellow  you  are,  is  it  ?  " 
Well,  this  made  me  pretty  mad ;  but  I  kept  quiet.  I 
only  explained  that  anybody  who  insulted  me  would  be 
too  low  to  be  noticed.  He  said  all  that  was  very  grand 
talk,  but  if  the  trial  really  came  I  would  n't  find  it 
so  easy  as  I  thought.  Well,  the  talk  went  on  in  that 
style,  when  all  at  once,  before  I  knew  what  his  game 
was  —  He  may  tell  the  rest. 

Dr.  Dlx.     Go  on,  Watson. 

Archibald  Watson  [Jianging  his  head'].  I  slapped 
him  over  the  mouth.  I  only  wanted  to  see  if  he  was 
the  saint  and  hero  he  pretended  to  be. 

Dr.  Dlx.     And  you,  Jenkins  ? 

Geojfrey  Jenkins.  My  fist  struck  out  before  I  could 
help  it.  He  did  it  so  quickly  he  did  n't  give  me  time 
to  think.     [_A2)jjlause,  iclilcli  the  Doctor  does  not  check.'] 

Dr.  Dix.  And  you,  Watson,  having  satisfied  your 
curiosity,  having  found  out  that  he  was  n't  "  the  saint 
and  hero  he  pretended  to  be,"  took  the  blow  in  good 
part,  laughed,  and  asked  his  pardon  ? 

Archibald  Watson  [coloring  with  shame].  N-no,  sir. 
He  hurt  me  a  good  deal,  and — and  I  struck  back,  and — 

Dr.  Dix.     Well,  what  then,  Jenkins  ? 

Geoffrey/  Jenkins.     Then  we  had  it. 


THE  BATTLE.  45 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes,  your  appearance  indicates  pretty 
plainly  that  you  both  "  had  it."  [Laufjhter.']  Your 
senseless  quarrel  is  a  fair  type  of  quarrels  in  general. 
Very  rarely  are  both  sides  equally  to  blame ;  still  more 
rarely  is  one  side  altogether  blameless.  Perhaps  in  the 
present  instance  one  of  the  parties  is  as  near  an  ap- 
proach to  — 

Archibald  Watson.  Dr.  Dix,  may  I  say  something 
more  ? 

Di'.  Dix.     Go  on. 

Archibald  Watson.  I  have  been  thinking  about  the 
affair  ever  since  it  occurred,  and  I  want  to  say  that  I  was 
entirely  to  blame  [^Voices.  "Yes."  "That's  true."]  — 
and  I  want  to  ask  his  pardon  here  and  now.   [J^^^jZ«?<se.] 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.  jS'o.  I  was  partly  to  blame.  \_Voices. 
u  ^Q  J  "  u  j^Q  [  "J  Yes,  I  ought  to  have  carried  out  my 
boast. 

Archibald  Watson.  But  he  could  n^t.  I  did  n't  give 
him  time  to  think.  His  fist  struck  out  almost  of  its 
own  accord.  He  couldn't  help  it.  And  he  served  me 
right,  any  way.     \_Ap2ilanse.'\ 

Geoffrey  Je.7iTxins.  It  is  not  quite  true  about  my  not 
being  able  to  help  it.  A  sort  of  half-thought  flashed 
through  my  mind,  "  Now  is  the  time  to  prove  my  boast- 
ing true.  Now  is  the  time  to  do  what  Dr.  Dix  talked 
about ;  "  —  but  with  it  came  the  other  thought,  "  I  'd  like 
to  do  so  well  enough ;  but  I  'd  rather  show  him  that  he 
can't  slap  my  mouth  without  getting  his  own  slapped  a 
good  deal  harder,"  —  and  I  want  to  ask  his  pardon  for 
that. 

Archibald  Wcttson.  Well,  any  way,  I  was  the  most  to 
blame.     Was  n't  I,  Dr.  Dix  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Your  schoolmates  evidently  think  you 
were  ;  and,  since  you  ask,  I  have  no  hesitation  in  pro- 
nouncing you  very  much  the  more  to  blame.  According 
to  the  account,  in  which  you  both  agree,  you  were  the 
entirely  unprovoked  aggressor. 


46  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

Archibald  Watsoti.  And  he  was  not  at  all  to  blame, 
was  he  ? 

Dr.  Dlx.  That  does  not  concern  you  so  much  as  it 
concerns  him.  He  insists  upon  it  that  he  was.  Well, 
boys,  in  spite  of  me  and  my  plans,  you  seem  to  have 
pretty  nearly  settled  the  whole  affair  between  your- 
selves. So  I  will  say  what  little  remains  to  be  said 
about  it  noAV.  You  were  both  to  blame,  though  in  very 
different  degrees  :  one  of  you  for  his  uncalled-for,  his 
utterly  unjustifiable  insult  to  his  friend  and  school- 
mate ;  and  the  other  for  not  yielding  to  the  noble  im- 
pulse of  his  higher  nature,  which,  though  feeble  and 
momentary,  he  acknowledges  he  felt.  Both  of  you  are 
grievously  to  blame  for  the  unrestrained  rage  to  which 
you  afterwards  gave  way.  The  actual  physical  pain 
you  inflicted  upon  each  other  was  the  least  part  of  your 
offence,  and  I  will  allow  it  to  stand  for  a  part  of  your 
punishment.  Not  only  this,  but  so  far  as  that  physical 
pain  cleared  away  the  angry  clouds  from  your  brows 
and  from  your  hearts,  and  led  you  to  the  magnanimous 
confessions  you  have  publicly  made  this  morning,  I  con- 
sider it  a  positive  good.  It  certainly  was  far  better  than 
an  outward  peace  preserved  at  the  cost  of  bitter  wrath 
and  hatred  rankling  in  secret. 

So  now  you  may  shake  hands  in  token  of  your  mutual 
forgiveness  and  the  renewal  of  a  friendship  which^  I 
hopCj  will  be  strengthened  by  the  wrench  it  has  re- 
ceived. We  will  consider  the  purely  personal  part  of 
this  discussion  at  an  end. 


X. 

WAKS  AND  RUIVIORS  OF  WARS. 

Dr.  Dix.  When  I  began  these  Talks,  I  was  not  so 
sanguine  as  to  expect  that  the  wrong  pointed  out  would 
thenceforth  be  invariably  shunned.  If  evil  were  so 
easily  abolished  and  good  so  easily  established,  the 
world  Avould  have  reached  perfection  ages  ago,  and  the 
occupation  of  those  who  seek  to  do  good,  like  Othello's, 
would  be  gone. 

But  character  is  not  spoken  into  existence  by  the 
utterance  of  a  few  words,  as  were  the  palaces  of  the 
"  Arabian  Xights  "  by  the  magician's  voice.  It  is  formed 
by  long,  slow  processes.  It  grows,  like  a  tree,  cell  by 
cell,  fibre  by  fibre,  branch  by  branch ;  it  is  builded, 
stone  by  stone,  like  real  palaces  whose  foundations  are 
on  the  solid  earth.  But  if  it  cannot  be  spoken  into  ex- 
istence, neither  can  it  be  destroyed  in  an  instant,  by  the 
magician's  voice.  Once  builded,  it  is  firm  and  solid 
"  from  turret  to  foundation  stone."  It  is  even  firmer  and 
more  solid  than  any  material  palace  or  castle  ;  for  no 
enemy  can  batter  down  its  walls,  no  treacherous  torch 
can  reduce  it  to  a  heap  of  ruins.  No  hand  but  the 
owner's  can  harm  or  deface  it. 

I  expect  no  magical  results  from  these  appeals.  I 
hope  and  expect  something  better  than  magic,  —  pro- 
gress towards  the  good  and  the  true,  which  shall  be  real 
progress,  slow  though  it  may  be. 

The  incident  of  yesterday  neither  surprised  nor  dis- 
heartened me.  Our  Talk  against  fighting  did  not  pre- 
vent an  actual  fight  from  taking  place  within  a  week. 
According  to  the  account  given  by  the  participants,  it 


48  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

even  suggested  and  in  a  certain  way  induced  it.  Did 
the  Talk  tlien  do  no  good  ?  Nay,  did  it  not  do  positive 
harm  ?  I  trow  not.  I  will  not  be  over-anxious ;  for 
when  the  physician  attempts  to  cure  a  disease,  he  some- 
times finds  its  peculiar  symptoms  aggravated,  rather 
than  reduced,  by  his  first  treatment :  but  that  does  not 
trouble  him  ;  he  knows  that  he  must  awaken  the  enemy 
before  he  can  drive  him  out. 

I  do  not  expect  that  talking  will  altogether  prevent 
fights  and  quarrels  in  the  future  ;  but,  scholars,  is  it 
too  much  to  hope  that  it  will  make  them  fewer,  less 
bitter,  and  sooner  mended  ?  that  it  will  make  them 
more  odious  in  your  eyes,  and  make  peace,  harmony, 
and  love  more  beautiful  ? 

I  have  already  characterized  pugilistic  encounters  as 
low,  vulgar,  and  brutal.  Of  all  forms  of  contention 
among  human  beings,  they  seem  to  me  the  most  so.  I 
cannot  perceive  any  respect  in  which  man-fights  or  boy- 
fights  of  this  kind  differ  essentially  from  dog-fights, 
except  that,  as  a  general  rule,  the  dog  exhibits  more 
desperate  pluck  and  fortitude  than  the  man.  Very  few 
men  would  allow  themselves  to  be  torn  limb  from  limb 
rather  than  relinquish  their  desperate  grip  on  the  ad- 
versary, as  many  a  dog  has  done. 

There  is  sublimity  as  Avell  as  terror  in  the  spectacle 
of  armies  battling  with  each  other  amid  the  roaring  of 
artillery,  the  flashing  and  clashing  of  steel,  and  the 
thundering,  rushing  tread  of  armed  hosts.  Even  the 
spectacle  of  a  pair  of  duellists,  calmly  facing  each  other 
with  their  deadly  weapons,  horrible  indeed  though  it 
be,  cannot  inspire  the  utter  disgust  and  loathing  in  the 
civilized  mind  that  it  feels  at  the  sight  of  a  pair  of 
human  beings,  insane  with  rage,  doing  their  utmost  to 
pound  the  "  divine  semblance  "  out  of  each  other's  faces 
with  their  fists. 

The  human  hand  is  a  noble  and  beautiful  object. 
Whether  it  wield  the  author's  pen,  the  artist's  pencil, 


WARS  AND  RUMORS  OF   WARS.  49 

or  the  artificer's  tool ;  whether  it  invoke  the  soul  of 
music,  thrill  the  heart  of  friendship  or  love  with  its 
warm  grasp,  or  sway  multitudes  with  its  wide  sweep, 
the  human  hand  is  a  noble  and  beautiful  object  to  con- 
template ;  —  but  the  human  Jist !  faugh  !  how  does  it 
differ  from  a  hammer  or  a  club,  except  that  it  is  not  so 
heavy,  hard,  or  deadly  ?  As  a  weapon  it  is  inferior  to 
almost  any  other  that  nature  has  provided.  Carnivora 
have  terrible  teeth  and  claws  ;  the  larger  herbivora  have 
horns  and  hoofs  ;  other  animals  are  armed  with  swords, 
arrows,  or  stings,  —  each  kind  showing  that  in  its  com- 
bats it  only  carries  out  the  design  of  nature.  Man  was 
made  for  nobler  things  than  fighting  with  his  fists  or 
with  less  vulgar  weapons. 

And  now  I  wish  you  to  notice  how,  as  we  ascend  in 
the  scale  of  being,  we  find  the  beastly  instinct  of  fight- 
ing less  and  less  developed.  Savage  man,  in  all  ages 
and  in  all  countries,  is  continually  at  war  with  his  fel- 
low-savage. The  barbarian  enjoys  longer  or  shorter 
intervals  of  peace  according  to  his  degree  of  advance- 
ment beyond  savagery ;  while  civilized  man  frequently 
lives  through  entire  generations  without  knowing  war 
save  in  history.  As  the  world  advances  in  civilizati(jn 
we  see  the  tendency  still  more  strikingly  shown.  In 
ancient  times  war  seems  to  have  been  the  chief  occupa- 
tion of  even  the  most  civilized  nations.  The  wonder  is 
that,  with  such  continual  cutting  and  slashing  at  one 
another,  such  endless  pillaging  and  burning,  the  human 
race,  with  the  works  of  its  hands,  was  not  altogether 
exterminated. 

Thomas  Dunn.  Their  weapons  were  not  so  effective 
as  those  of  modern  times. 

Dr.  Dix.  True.  If  they  had  been  as  effective,  wars 
could  not  have  been  protracted  through  whole  genera- 
tions, as  they  sometimes  were.  The  superiority  of  mod- 
ern arms  is  often  assigned  as  the  reason  Avhy  there  is 
less  fighting  than  formerly.     Doubtless  this  is  one  great 


50  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

reason ;  but  another  and  more  adequate  explanation  is 
the  improved  moral  and  intellectual  status  of  modern 
man  over  his  ancient  progenitor.  As  his  intellect  ad- 
vances, he  devises  more  and  more  effective  means  of 
destroying  life  ;  but  meanwhile  his  heart  and  soul  keep 
pace  with  his  intellect,  and  hence  his  disposition  to 
make  wanton  use  of  his  deadly  inventions  diminishes, 
and  his  disposition  to  settle  his  differences  by  arbitra- 
tion increases. 

Florence  Hill.  Do  you  suppose  the  time  will  come 
when  war  will  be  entirely  unknown,  when  all  disagree- 
ments between  nations  will  be  settled  by  arbitration  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  The  civilized  part  of  the  world  have  the 
best  of  reasons  for  looking  forward  to  such  a  time.  It 
is  a  point  in  perfection  towards  which  civilized  man  is 
slowly  but  surely  advancing. 

Florence  Hill.  That  will  be  the  time  when  men  shall 
"  beat  their  swords  into  ploughshares  and  their  spears 
into  pruning-hooks." 

Dr.  Dix.  Try  to  imagine  such  a  golden  age,  scholars. 
No  repetition  possible  of  such  horrors  as  your  fathers 
and  mothers  witnessed  only  a  short  quarter-century 
ago  ;  no  such  evils  as  exist  even  in  the  peaceful  to-day ; 
no  millions  of  treasure  wasted  in  the  making  of  arms 
and  munitions  and  in  the  building  of  fortifications  ;  no 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  able-bodied  men  taken  from 
the  ranks  of  useful  labor  to  consume  in  idleness  the 
products  of  others'  industry  ! 

Florence  Hill.  Do  you  believe,  Dr.  Dix,  that  such  an 
age  will  actually  come  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Why  should  I  not  ?  The  history,  philoso- 
phy, and  faith  of  mankind  all  point  to  that  glorious 
consummation. 

George  Williams.  And  yet  when  it  comes  there  will 
be  something  lost  to  the  world. 

Dr.  Dix.  Possibly.  The  proverb  says,  ''  There  is 
no  great  gain  without  some  small  loss."  What  do  you 
think  will  be  lost  ? 


WARS  AND  RUMORS  OF  WARS. 


51 


George  Williams.  Well,  it  seems  to  me  such  an  age 
must  be  exceedingly  tame.  There  will  be  no  grand 
military  heroes  to  admire,  —  no  Grants,  nor  Shermans, 
nor  Sheridans,  nor  Custers,  nor  Stonewall  Jacksons. 
In  private  life  there  will  be  no  father  nor  brother  who 
has  shown  his  courage  and  patriotism  by  going  to  the 
wars. 

Florence  Hill.  Among  all  the  horrors  and  sacrifices 
of  our  great  war,  did  it  not  have  at  least  one  great  and 
good  effect  ?  Did  it  not  make  men  and  women  sud- 
denly forget  their  selfishness  and  their  avarice,  and  be- 
come devoted  patriots  ? 

Dr.  Dix.     We  will  reply  next  Wednesday. 


XI. 
WHEN  THE  GOOD  BOY  WILL  FIGHT. 

Dr.  Dix.  If  there  were  no  wars,  there  would  cer- 
tainly be  no  grand  military  heroes,  no  soldier  fathers, 
brothers,  husbands,  or  lovers  to  admire  and  be  proud  of 
—  or  to  7)iour7i. 

But  Peace  has  its  heroes  as  well  as  War.  There  is 
other  glory  than  that  of  the  battlefield.  The  most  he- 
roic bravery  may  be  shown  in  saving  life  as  well  as  in 
destroying  it.  Does  a  young  man  weary  of  the  tame- 
ness  of  peace,  and  thirst  for  the  glory  that  heroic  self- 
sacrifice  brings  ?  There  is  no  lack  of  opportunity  ;  the 
bravest  soldier  that  ever  charged  battery,  or  leaped  over 
parapet,  was  no  braver  than  the  physician  or  the  nurse 
who  remains  unflinchingly  at  the  post  of  duty,  while 
others  are  fleeing  from  the  pestilence  that  wasteth  at 
noonday ;  or  the  fireman  who  dares  wounds  and  death 
more  terrible  than  those  from  the  bullet  or  the  bayonet ; 
or  the  engineer  who  saves  his  train  at  the  cost  of  his 
own  life ;  or  the  ship  captain  who  will  not  leave  his 
sinking  wreck  until  all  others  are  saved,  from  the  cabin 
passenger  to  the  miserable  stowaway ;  or  the  lifeboat- 
man  ;  or  any  one  else  who  flings  himself  into  the  breach 
at  the  trumpet-call  of  duty,  —  not,  mark  you,  to  shoot 
and  cut  and  thrust  and  stab,  not  to  kill,  hut  to  save  ! 

No  opportunity  for  heroism  when  wars  shall  have 
been  banished  from  earth  ?     Think  of  Father  Damien  ! 

Susan  Perkins.  Can  there  really  be  such  a  thing  as 
a  righteous  war  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Most  people  think  so.  We  Americans  look 
upon  all  our  great  wars  as  righteous,  at  least  on  one 
side. 


WHEN   THE  GOOD  BOY   WILL  FIGHT.  53 

Susan  Perkins.  And  I  suppose  those  who  fought  on 
the  other  side  thought  the  same  for  their  side  ? 

Dr.  Dix.     Unquestionably. 

Susan  Perkins.  But  both  sides  could  n't  be  in  the 
right. 

Dr.  Dix.     That  seems  evident. 

Susan  Perkins.  Does  the  side  that  is  in  the  right 
alwaijs  win  the  victory,  as  we  Americans  have  always 
done  ? 

Dr.  Dix  [smilinr/'].  "  We  Americans  "  have  not  al- 
ways been  victorious  ;  in  our  last  war  half  of  us  were 
defeated.  JSTow  let  me  ask  i/oii  a  question  :  If  millions 
of  civilized  people  think  one  thing  right,  and  millions 
of  other  civilized  people  think  just  the  opposite,  who  is 
to  decide  which  is  really  the  right  ? 

Susan  Perkins.  Why,  I  suppose  the  stronger  party 
will  decide. 

Dr.  Dix.  When  strength  has  been  appealed  to, 
strength  has  always  decided ;  and  the  world  has  gener- 
ally concurred  in  the  decision.     *'  Might  makes  right." 

Susan  Perkins.  But  it  is  n't  always  really  true,  is  it, 
that  might  makes  right  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  By  no  means.  But  in  purely  political  wars, 
not  involving  any  great  moral  question,  it  has  always 
been  so  regarded.  The  party  that  revolted  against  the 
existing  form  of  government,  if  successful,  were  "  glo- 
rious revolutionists  ; "  if  defeated,  they  w^ere  "  traitors 
and  rebels." 

Stisan  Perkins.  I  don't  understand  how  the  time  can 
ever  come  when  it  will  be  otherwise. 

Dr.  Dix.  As  I  said,  the  nations  are  growing  more 
intelligent  and  more  humane.  The  time  was  when  it 
was  thought  not  only  just,  but  perfectly  rational,  to  de- 
cide by  a  mortal  combat  between  private  individuals 
which  of  them  was  in  the  right.  The  world  has  out- 
grown this  palpable  absurdity.  Why  should  it  not  in 
time  grow  intelligent  enough  to  perceive  that  a  national 


54  CHARACTER   BUILDING. 

combat  is  no  more  rational  a  criterion  of  right  and  jus- 
tice than  a  private  combat  is  ? 

Susan  Ferklns.  Then,  if  the  stronger  nation  is  not 
to  decide,  who  will  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  If  what  are  called  the  "  Laws  of  Nations  " 
are  not  definite  enough  in  themselves  to  settle  a  disa- 
greement between  two  nations  or  two  parts  of  the  same 
nation,  it  will,  by  common  consent,  be  referred  to  a 
commission  of  other  friendly  powers.  This  is  what  we 
mean  by  arbitration.  What  is  the  most  famous  instance 
of  the  sort  that  yon  know  of  ? 

Susan  Perkins.  The  commission  that  sat  at  Geneva 
on  the  Alabama  Claims. 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes.  Undoubtedly  it  prevented  what,  less 
than  a  century  ago,  would  have  been  a  long  and  bloody 
war. 

Susan  Perkins.  That  might  always  have  been  done, 
might  it  not  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Certainly,  if  only  the  parties  interested 
had  agreed  to  it. 

Susan  Perkins.  Then  I  don't  understand  how  any 
war  that  was  ever  fought  can  be  called  a  righteous  war. 

Dr.  Dix.  Simply  because  it  "  takes  two  to  make  a 
bargain."  It  is  not  enough  for  one  side  to  be  willing 
to  appeal  to  arbitration.  If  one  side  will  not  assent 
to  this  peaceable  mode  of  settlement,  then  nothing  re- 
mains for  the  other  side  but  to  fight  or  submit  to  what 
it  considers  wrong.  As  the  world  advances,  the  general 
sentiment  of  humanity  will  grow  so  strong  in  favor  of 
arbitration,  and  its  indignation  at  the  barbarous  crim- 
inality of  forcing  a  war  will  be  so  overpowering,  that 
no  nation  will  dare  to  brave  it.  Wars  will  go  out  of 
fashion  as  duels  have  already  gone. 

Florence  Hill.  Dr.  Dix,  you  spoke  of  one  nation  be- 
ing forced  to  fight  or  submit  to  wrong.  Are  Ave  not 
taught  that  it  is  better  to  suffer  wrong  than  to  do 
wrong  ? 


WHEN   THE  GOOD  BOY    WILL  FIGHT.  55 

Dr.  Dix.  Better  to  suffer  wrong  than  to  do  wrong, 
always,  either  for  a  man  or  for  a  nation.  But,  though 
we  may  rightfully  submit  to  wrong  in  our  own  persons, 
we  have  no  right  to  allow  others  to  suffer  through  our 
neglect.  Especially  is  it  our  duty  to  see  that  our  be- 
loved country  suffers  no  wrong  from  its  enemies  that 
we  can  prevent  by  any  personal  sacrifice ;  to  see  that 
future  generations  inherit  no  burden  of  injustice  or 
oppression  from  our  cowardice  or  neglect  of  duty.  It 
is  because  our  fathers  did  their  duty  in  this  respect  so 
nobly  and  heroically  that  we  are  now  enjoying  our 
inalienable  rights  to  liberty  and  the  pursuit  of  happi- 
ness, with  no  earthly  power  to  disturb  us  or  make  us 
afraid. 

Charles  Fox.  Is  it  ever  right  to  fight  except  as  a 
soldier  for  one's  country  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  "  Ever  "  is  a  very  comprehensive  word.  I 
can  truly  say  that  I  never  saw  the  time  in  my  own  life 
when  I  thought  it  was  right  for  me,  and  I  hope  you 
will  never  see  the  day  when  it  will  be  right  for  i/ou. 

Charles  Fox.     But  it  may  come,  may  it  not  ? 

D7\  Dix  [Jau'jhlng'].  How  natural  it  is  for  a  boy  to 
love  to  talk  about  fighting !  If  you  should  ever  see  as 
much  of  it  as  luy  comrades  and  I  saw  during  the  war, 
perhaps  it  will  not  seem  so  fascinating  to  you.  Man  is 
a  combative  animal ;  but  he  is  generally  pretty  easily 
satisfied :  a  few  weeks  in  the  hospital  are  likely  to  cure 
him  entirely. 

"Well,  since  you  insist  upon  it  I  believe  I  made  the 
statement  a  while  ago  that  the  good  boy  will  not  fight 
unless  he  is  absolutely  compelled.  That  implies  that 
there  may  be  circumstances  when  it  is  not  only  not 
wrong,  but  positively  his  duty  to  fight. 

Fighting  is  not  wrong  in  itself :  it  is  the  hatred,  cru- 
elty, injustice,  selfishness,  pride,  vanity,  greed,  or  un- 
reasoning anger  that  so  often  accompanies  fighting  that 
is  wrong. 


56  CHAEACTER  BUILDING. 

Jonathan  Tower.  You  said  a  good  boy  will  not  fight 
unless  he  is  absolutely  compelled.  Even  a  coward  vv'ill 
fight  then.  I  have  read  that  the  most  timid  animals 
sometimes  defend  themselves  fiercely  when  driven  to 
desperation. 

Dr.  Dix.  The  time  when  the  coward  will  fight  may 
be  the  very  time  when  the  good  and  really  brave  boy 
will  not. 

Charles  Fox.  Dr.  Dix,  will  you  please  say  when  you 
think  it  would  be  right  to  fight,  except  as  a  soldier  for 
your  country  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  You  seem  to  think  this  is  one  of  those  oc- 
casions. [^Laughter.']  You  seem  most  desperately  deter- 
mined to  carry  your  point,  at  all  events.  Well,  1  will 
ask  you  to  suppose  a  case. 

Charles  Fox.  If  you  should  be  walking  with  your 
mother  or  sister,  and  a  ruffian  should  attack  her. 

Dr.  Dix.  That  would  be  a  trying  situation,  indeed! 
The  boy  or  man  that  would  not  fight  then  would  be 
rather  a  sorry  specimen  of  humanity.  \_More  seriously.'\ 
And,  scholars,  don't  you  think  the  case  supposed  is  an  ad- 
mirable illustration  of  the  situation  in  which  the  loyal, 
patriotic  citizen  feels  himself  when  his  mother  country 
is  attacked  by  ruffians  ? 

Many  Voices  \Jieartily'\.     Yes,  sir. 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes.  There  is  a  very  close  kinship  between 
the  instinct  of  patriotism  in  the  noble  soul  and  filial 
affection  and  faithfulness.  Well,  you  may  suppose 
other  cases. 

Henry  Jones.  When  you  see  a  big  fellow  abusing  a 
little  one  \^ylancing  resentfully  at  Joseph  Cracklin~\. 

Joseph  Cracklin.  Sometimes  little  fellows  deserve 
to  be  punished  for  their  insolence. 

Dr.  Dix  \_with  keen  significance'].  A  fellow  with  a 
big  soul  as  well  as  a  big  body  never  recognizes  "  inso- 
lence "  in  a  little  fellow. 

Henry  Jones.     And  I  only  told  him  he  was  a  — 


WHEN   THE  GOOD  BOY   WILL  F^GHT.  57 

Di\  Dlx.  And  a  little  fellow  with  a  big  soul  never 
tries  to  shield  insolence  with  his  little  body.  But 
enough  of  this.     Go  on  with  your  cases. 

Frank  Wllliavis.  If  a  burglar  should  break  into  your 
house. 

James  Murphy.  If  a  robber  should  attack  you  in  the 
street. 

Dr.  Dix.  With  all  due  respect  to  your  coolness  and 
courage,  boys,  I  think  it  scarcely  probable  that  many  of 
you  will  enjoy  such  opportunities  to  display  those  ad- 
mirable qualities,  however  much  you  may  covet  them. 
Never  mind  doubling  up  your  fists  noiv,  —  there 's  no 
immediate  danger  that  I  can  see.     [^Laughter.'] 

Without  reference  to  any  incident  that  has  occurred 
among  us,  let  me  remind  you  that  there  is  a  wide  dif- 
ference between  a  blow  struck  in  self-defence  and  one 
struck  in  mere  revenge.  And  let  me  remind  you,  boys, 
and  girls  too,  that  there  is  a  kind  of  self-defence  besides 
that  against  blows  upon  the  right  cheek.  There  are 
enemies  within  our  own  bosoms  far  more  dangerous  than 
any  we  are  likely  to  encounter  without.  Against  them 
the  good  boy  and  the  good  girl  will  fight  with  all  the 
heroic  chivalry  they  possess. 

Mary  Rice.  I  understood  you  to  justify  self-defence. 
Dr.  Dix.  Are  we  not  told  that  if  any  man  smite  us  on 
the  right  cheek,  we  are  to  turn  the  other  also  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  I  am  not  aware  that  I  have  as  yet  expressed 
any  decided  views  on  the  subject  of  physical  self-de- 
fence. W^e  will  talk  further  upon  this  subject  next 
week. 


XII. 
WHEN   THE  GOOD   BOY  WILL  NOT   FIGHT. 

Dr.  Dix.  Suppose  that  when  men  were  struck  upon' 
the  right  cheek  they  always  turned  the  other  also,  how 
would  the  great  aggregate  of  lighting  and  quarrelling 
the  world  over  be  affected  ? 

Mary  Rice.  It  would  be  very  much  diminished,  of 
course. 

Florence  Hill.  I  should  say  it  would  disappear  alto- 
gether, if  everybody  acted  on  that  principle,  for  nobody 
would  strike  in  the  first  place. 

Dr.  Dix.  Well,  suppose  half  the  world  were  inclined 
to  strike,  but  the  other  half  were  not  inclined  to  return 
the  blows. 

Thomas  Dunn.  I  think  the  effects  would  be  very 
different  Avith  different  people.  Some  would  no  doubt 
be  satisfied  with  the  blow  they  had  already  given,  and 
would  have  no  disposition  to  repeat  it. 

Dr.  Dix.  Do  you  think  they  would  have  no  feeling 
besides  that  of  satisfaction  ? 

Thomas  Dunn.  They  might  think  the  blow  was  de- 
served,, that  no  more  than  justice  had  been  done,  and 
they  might  suppose  that  the  reason  why  it  was  not 
returned  was  because  the  other  party  viewed  it  in  the 
same  light. 

Dr.  Dix.  Even  granting  this  to  be  the  case  (which, 
as  human  nature  is  constituted,  Avould  not  be  likely  to 
occur  very  frequently),  how  would  they  probably  regard 
such  an  exhilntion  of  patient  submission  to  justice  ? 

Thomas  Dunn.  They  might  admire  it;  that  is,  if 
they  did  n't  despise  what  might  seem  a  want  of  spirit. 


WHEN   THE  GOOD  BOY    WILL  NOT  FIGHT.       59 

Dr.  Dix.  But  tlie  supposition  is  that  they  regird  the 
forbearance  shown  as  due  only  to  the  sense  of  justice. 

Thomas  Dunn.  In  that  case,  of  course  they  could  n't 
but  admire  it. 

Dr.  Dix.  Don't  you  think  it  possible  that  they  might 
even  feel  something  like  regret,  —  that  they  might  wish 
they  had  shown  a  like  forbearance  ? 

Thomas  Dunn.     Some  might  feel  so. 

Dr.  Die.  A  person  of  real  magnanimity  would,  would 
he  not  ? 

Thomas  Dunn.     Yes,  sir. 

Dr.  D'lx.  And  if  he  were  not  a  person  of  magnanim- 
ity, would  it  matter  very  much  to  the  other  how  he 
felt? 

Thomas  Dunn.     I  suppose  not. 

Dr.  Dix.    At  all  events,  the  quarrel  would  be  stoj  pei. 

Thomas  Dunn.  It  might  be,  in  that  case.  But  there 
are  other  people  who,  if  they  find  they  can  abuse  any- 
body with  impunity,  will  keep  on  doing  so. 

Dr.  Dix.  Do  3'Ou  think  there  are  many  such  ?  Did 
you  ever  see  an  example  ? 

Thomas  Dunn.  Indeed  I  have.  He  is  known  among 
schoolboys  as  a  bully.  Among  grown-up  people  he  has 
different  names.  I  lived  in  a  town  once  where  there 
was  a  man  who  was  always  cheating  the  minister,  be- 
cause he  thought  he  was  "too  pious  to  quarrel." 

Dr.  Dix.  And  did  the  minister  submit  without  pro- 
test ? 

Thomas  Dunn.  I  never  heard  of  his  protesting.  All 
I  know  is  that  the  same  thing  was  going  on  when  I  left 
the  town. 

Dr.  Dix.  What  do  you  think  the  minister  ought  to 
have  done  ? 

Thomas  Dunn.  I  think  he  ought  to  have  prosecuted 
the  rascal  for  swindling.  He  ought  to  have  done  so  for 
the  sake  of  his  family,  if  not  for  his  own  sake.  Because 
he  was  smitten  on  his  right  cheek  he  had  no  right  to 


60  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

turn  tlieh'  left  cheeks  also.  Because  a  man  took  away 
his  coat  he  had  do  business  to  give  him  their  cloaks, 
whatever  he  did  Avith  his  own. 

Dr.  Dlx  [_€<jI(Uij'].  It  seems  to  me  you  make  a  digres- 
sion for  the  sake  of  the  opportunity  to  be  caustic.  We 
were  speaking  of  quarrellliirj,  not  of  prosecution  in  a 
court  of  justice. 

Thomas  Dunn.  Is  n't  prosecution  a  species  of  quar- 
relling ? 

Dr.  Dlx.  A  court  of  justice  bears  a  relation  to  pri- 
vate individuals  similar  to  that  which  a  court  of  arbi- 
tration bears  to  nations.  The  legitimate  purpose  of 
both  is  the  same  :  to  prevent  or  settle  quarrels  and  see 
that  justice  is  done.  So,  in  a  legal  prosecution  of  the 
man  who  wronged  him  and  his  family,  your  minister 
could  not  justly  be  charged  with  quarrelling.  On  the 
contrary,  if  he  found  that  personal  appeals  to  the  man's 
conscience  and  generosity  were  of  no  avail,  he  should 
be  credited  with  resorting  to  the  only  peaceable  means 
of  righting  a  wrong  that  lay  within  his  power,  arbitra- 
tion. 

Is  it  not  possible,  however,  that  the  good  man  feared 
lest  the  remedy  might  prove  worse  than  the  evil,  — lest, 
in  short,  it  might  prove  more  costly  to  go  to  law  than 
to  submit  to  the  imposition  ? 

Thomas  Dunn.  My  uncle  offered  to  pay  all  the  costs 
if  he  would  sue  the  man. 

Dr.  Dlx.  Ah,  there  might  be  costs  that  your  uncle 
could  not  pay.  I  know  something  of  the  relations  be- 
tween country  clergymen  and  their  parishioners. 

Louisa  Thompson.  You  called  a  court  of  justice  a 
court  of  arbitration  to  prevent  quarrels.  In  reality  is 
there  not  more  quarrelling  there  than  almost  anywhere 
else  ?  Is  n't  the  prosecution  itself  generally  one  long 
quarrel  between  the  lawyers  ? 

Dr.  Dlx.  We  must  admit  that  even  lawyers  are  not 
free    from  human   imperfections.     \_Laughter.']     There 


WHEN   THE  GOOD  BOY   WILL  NOT  FIGHT.       Q>\ 

need  be  no  more  quarrelling  in  determining  the  truth  and 
its  proper  consequences  in  a  case  at  law  than  in  a  ques- 
tion of  science  or  mathematics.  That  men  pervert  and 
abuse  their  proper  functions  in  the  judicial  department 
of  human  society,  as  they  do  in  all  other  departments, 
is  no  reason  why  the  citizen  should  not  perform  his 
OAvn  proper  function  as  a  member  of  society. 

Not  that  he  should  be  ready  to  appeal  every  trivial 
disagreement.  Generally,  not  only  magnanimity  and 
dignity,  but  even  common  sense  and  common  policy, 
dictate  the  quiet  ignoring  of  minor  injuries  from  our 
neighbors. 

Florence  Hill.  Besides,  as  you  said,  it  costs  a  good 
deal  to  go  to  law  :  poor  people  cannot  afford  it. 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes,  indeed,  it  costs !  Often  far  more 
than  the  wrong  it  cures.  But  to  resent  the  wrong  in 
other  ways  is  more  costly  still ;  for  it  costs  what  is 
more  precious  than  gold  and  silver.  Better  suffer  in 
person  and  property  than  in  heart  and  character.  And, 
heart  and  character  aside,  it  is  better  to  make  a  little 
concession,  even  if  in  doing  so  we  suffer  injustice,  than 
to  live  in  unending  enmity  with  our  neighbor. 

Henri/  Phillips.  Is  there  not  danger  that  we  may 
encourage  our  neighbor  to  continue  in  his  wrong-doing, 
as  the  man  did  that  Dunn  told  us  of  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  That  person  is  an  example  of  only  one 
class  of  men,  —  I  am  happy  to  believe  of  only  a  com- 
paratively small  class.  The  more  probable  result  of 
our  forbearance  would  be  to  awaken  feelings  of  shame 
and  repentance  in  those  who  have  wronged  us.  Men 
generally  have  a  pretty  fair  knowledge  of  what  is  right 
and  just.  When  their  judgment  is  not  clouded  by  an- 
ger, hatred,  or  revenge,  they  usually  know  when  they 
are  in  the  wrong,  whether  they  confess  it  or  not.  And 
there  is  nothing  which  will  sweep  away  those  clouds 
from  their  minds  like  turning  the  other  cheek  also. 
There  is  nothing  like  a  soft  answer  to  turn  away  wrath. 


62  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

One  of  the  most  cairious  and  interesting  phases  of 
human  emotion  is  that  which  accompanies  a  reconcilia- 
tion after  a  quarrel.  They  whose  chief  object  lately 
seemed  to  be  to  injure  each  other,  noAV  vie  with  each 
other  in  friendly  words  and  deeds  ;  whereas  each  strove 
to  be  more  haughty,  bitter,  and  unyielding  than  the 
other,  now  the  question  is,  which  shall  be  the  more 
humble  and  apologetic.  In  short,  the  chief  object  of 
each  now  is  to  undo  what  before  he  was  most  anxious 
to  do.  What  better  acknowledgment  could  each  make 
that  he  was  mistaken  ?  that  all  that  energy  and  passion 
were  wasted,  —  worse  than  wasted  ?  It  seems  to  me 
that  no  lesson  can  better  teach  the  utter  folly  as  well  as 
wickedness  of  a  quarrel  than  the  absurd  inconsistencies 
between  it  and  the  reconciliation  which  it  almost  always 
lies  in  the  power  of  either  party  to  bring  about. 

You  all  know  what  is  meant  by  "  noble  revenge." 
You  have  read  stories  of  which  that  is  the  motif. 
Other  things  being  equal,  are  there  any  stories  more 
stirring  ?  are  there  any  in  which  your  sympathy  and 
admiration  for  the  hero  are  more  strongly  aroused  ? 

Helen  Mar.  I  never  quite  liked  the  word  "  revenge  " 
in  such  stories,  notwithstanding  the  "noble."  In  fact,  I 
fail  to  see  how  a 711/  kind  of  revenge  can  be  noble.  You 
might  as  well  speak  of  hot  ice.  I  don't  see  any  essen- 
tial difference  between  heaping  coals  of  fire  on  your 
enemy's  head  and  heaping  them  under  his  barn,  except 
that  heaping  them  on  his  head  is  very  much  the  worse. 

Dr.  Dix.  If  the  only  purpose  is  to  cause  suffer- 
ing, there  is  no  essential  difference.  No  doubt  such 
"  noble  "  revenge  is  often  taken.  "  I  will  return  him 
good  for  evil,"  one  will  say,  "  until  he  is  ready  to  sink 
into  the  earth  for  shame.  He  shall  not  dare  to  hold 
up  his  head  in  my  presence."  And  the  added  thought 
may  be,  "  Everybody  will  then  see  how  magnanimous  I 
am,  and  how  contemptible  he  is." 

But  those  whose  revenge  is  really  noble  have  no  such 


WHEN  THE  GOOD  BOY    WILL  NOT  FIGHT.       63 

thought.  They  even  lament  the  pain  their  return  of 
good,  for  evil  may  cause.  They  soften  the  suffering  as 
much  as  possible  by  kind,  forgiving  words  and  a  chari- 
table palliation  of  the  injury  done  them.  "  You  did 
not  harm  me  so  very  much,  after  all,"  they  will  say. 
'•'  At  all  events,  it  is  past  now,  and  the  future  remains 
to  us  both." 

Then,  too,  they  know  well  that  such  "  coals  of  fire  " 
are  beneficent  rather  than  evil  in  their  effects  ;  that 
they  burn  out  nothing  but  what  is  bad,  only  warming 
the  good  to  life. 

Now,  let  us  suppose  them  to  take  the  opposite  course. 
Suppose  they  nourish  their  wrath,  and  show  in  every 
way  they  dare  their  implacable  hatred  towards  those 
who  have  injured  them  :  what  will  be  the  natural  re- 
sult ? 

Henry  Phillips.  Their  mutual  hatred  will  grow 
stronger  and  stronger. 

D):  Dix.  And  suppose  that  opportunities  come  when 
they  can  return  evil  for  evil  with  interest,  and  that  they 
improve  their  opportunities,  —  what  then  ? 

Henry  Phillips.  Matters  will  only  grow  worse  and 
worse. 

Dr.  Dix.  Though  by  superior  force  they  may,  in  a 
sense,  be  said  to  vanquish  their  enemies,  will  they  really 
do  so  ? 

Henry  Phillips.  No,  Dr.  Dix.  Their  enemies  will 
only  wait  for  a  chance  to  "  get  even  "  with  them. 

Dr.  Dix.  And  so  on,  back  and  forth,  perhaps  from 
generation  to  generation.  If  a  man  smite  thee  on  the 
right  cheek,  smite  him  in  return ;  and  if  he  dare  not 
repeat  his  blow,  yet  will  he  find  some  way  to  strike 
thee,  —  in  the  dark,  perhaps.  At  all  events,  he  remains 
thine  enemy.  But  turn  to  him  the  other  also,  and  lo ! 
the  hand  that  smote  thee  is  outstretched  for  thy  for- 
giveness.    The  only  absolute  conqueror  is  Love. 


XIII. 
"GOODY-GOODY"  AND  GOOD. 

Dr.  Dix.  You  have  heard  of  "hero-worshippers." 
They  are  almost  as  solicitous  for  the  welfare  and  repu- 
tation of  their  favorites  as  for  their  own.  They  are  as 
sensitive  to  injustice,  and  especially  to  ridicule  or  con- 
tempt that  may  be  cast  upon  their  heroes,  as  they  would 
be  in  their  own  behalf.  Now,  I  think  I  must  be  an 
example  of  the  species,  for  I  acknowledge  a  sensitive- 
ness in  regard  to  a  certain  class  of  my  fellow-beings, 
which  some  of  you  have  touched  more  than  once.  My 
hero  is  the  good  boy  ;  my  heroine  is  the  good  girl ;  and 
you  must  be  careful  how  you  asperse  either  of  these  in 
my  hearing,  for  I  shall  always  be  their  stanch  and 
loyal  defender. 

Advertisers  of  merchandise  often  warn  the  public 
against  base  imitations,  which,  they  complain,  tend  to 
injure  the  reputation  of  their  wares.  Certain  classes 
of  people  suffer  from  base  imitations,  but  only  in  the 
minds  of  those  who  cannot  distinguish  between  the 
genuine  and  the  spurious.  The  gallant  soldier  suffers 
in  reputation  from  the  blustering  braggadocio  who  is  at 
heart  as  cowardly  as  he  is  blustering.  The  saint  suf- 
fers from  the  hypocrite ;  the  true  scholar  from  the 
pedantic  sham  who  astonishes  the  ignorant  with  his 
vast  stories  of  learning ;  and  I  suspect,  from  some 
things  which  have  been  said  and  which  have  formed 
the  subjects  of  some  of  our  Talks,  that  my  hero  and 
heroine  have  suffered  in  your  estimation  from  a  similar 
cause. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  base  imitations  of  the  good 


'^  GOODY-GOODY'  AXD  GOOD.  65 

boy  or  girl :  First,  the  real,  unmitigated  hypocrite  who 
pulls  his  long  face  and  whines  out  his  sanctimonious 
cant  for  the  deliberate  purpose  of  concealing  his  vil- 
lany.  This  species,  I  am  happy  to  believe,  is  exceed- 
ingly rare  among  young  persons ;  it  generally  takes 
more  than  twenty-one  years  to  develop  that  degree  of 
contemptible  wickedness  ;  so  we  will  not  dwell  on  the 
revolting  picture.  The  second  kind  is  the  "  goody- 
goody  "  boy  or  girl,  who  is  usually  rather  weak  than 
deliberately  wicked,  although  he  may  have,  without 
suspecting  it,  some  of  the  most  despicable  traits  joined 
to  his  self-righteousness. 

Jonathan  Towey.     What  traits,  for  example  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  "Well,  pusillanimity,  vanity,  treachery,  per- 
haps from  a  mistaken  sense  of  duty,  uncharitableness, 
and  that  same  canting  sanctimoniousness  which  I  have 
ascribed  to  the  other  and  far  worse  species. 

Is  it  not  possible  that  this  is  the  kind  of  good  boy 
that  some  of  you  had  in  mind  when  you  compared  him 
so  unfavorably  with  the  gay,  fascinating  bad  boy  of 
your  fancy  ?  If  so,  I  am  not  sure  that  I  don't  agree 
with  you.  Many  so-called  bad  boys  are  far  more  worthy 
of  respect,  trust,  and  admiration  than  boj^s  of  this  type. 

But  the  goody-goody  boy  and  the  good  boy  are  no 
more  alike  than  a  solid  gold  eagle  is  like  a  poorly  exe- 
cuted counterfeit. 

XoAv,  scholars,  let  me  give  you  my  ideal  of  the  really 
good  boy,  my  hero,  —  and  I  wish  you  to  understand 
that  I  use  the  word  "  boy  "  generically,  as  we  use  the 
word  "  man,"  to  denote  both  sexes. 

This  is  the  hero,  the  knight  sans  peur  et  sans  re- 
proche :  ^  — 

He  is  truthful.  He  would  scorn  any  approach  to  a 
lie  as  he  would  scorn  any  other  act  of  meanness  or  of 
cowardice.  Do  you  despise  him  for  this  ?  do  you  ad- 
mire a  liar  ? 

^  Without  fear  and  Avithout  reproach. 


66  CHARACTER   BUILDING. 

He  is  generous,  —  in  thought,  word,  and  deed.  He 
thinks  the  best  of  you  that  you  will  allow  him  to  think. 
If  others  vilify  you  behind  your  backs,  he  takes  up  the 
cudgel  in  your  defence.  If  you  are  in  trouble,  he  does 
his  best  to  help  you.  How  do  you  like  that  ?  Do  you 
prefer  a  boy  who  thinks  and  speaks  evil  of  you,  who  is 
selfish  and  unaccommodating,  and  who  laughs  at  your 
trouble  ? 

Geoff  ret/  Jenkins.  Dr.  Dix,  one  of  the  worst  boys  in 
town  (at  least  he  is  called  so  ;  he  has  been  exj)elled 
from  school  so  often  that  they  are  talking  of  sending 
him  to  the  Eeform  School)  will  always  help  a  fellow 
when  he  can.  He  is  the  most  generous  boy  I  ever 
knew. 

Dr.  Dix.  So  far  as  he  "  helps  a  fellow  "  in  a  good 
cause  he  is  good.  Probably  no  one  is  utterly  bad.  As 
there  are  faults  in  the  best  of  men,  so  there  are  virtues 
in  the  worst.  As  to  his  being  the  most  generous  boy 
you  ever  knew,  that  may  be,  but  he  is  not  more  gener- 
ous than  my  good  boy,  my  hero. 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.  But  don't  you  think  that  people 
who  have  the  reputation  of  being  bad  are  apt  to  be 
more  generous  and  free-hearted  than  those  who  have 
the  reputation  of  being  good  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  I  am  not  speaking  of  reputation ;  I  am 
speaking  of  reality.  Generosity  and  free-heartedness 
in  themselves  are  among  the  noblest  and  most  admira- 
ble qualities  Ave  can  possess.  So  far  as  any  one  pos- 
sesses them  he  is  good,  noble,  and  admirable,  whatever 
he  may  be  in  other  respects.  As  to  what  class  of  men 
possess  them  in  the  greatest  measure,  I  say  unhesi- 
tatingly, men  who  are  good  in  other  respects,  —  not 
goody-goody,  you  understand,  but  good.  It  would  be  a 
self-contradiction  to  say  the  opposite  :  badness  does  n't 
consist  in  good  qualities,  does  it  ?  nor  goodness  in  bad 
qualities. 

You  must  bear  in  mind  one  universal  principle  :  con- 


''GOODY-GOODY''  AND  GOOD.  67 

trast  always  brings  things  out  in  bolder  relief.  Kind- 
ness of  heart  is  expected  from  a  good  man,  and  is  not 
noticed  as  it  would  be  in  an  otherwise  bad  man.  It  is 
no  more  conspicuous  in  the  good  than  hard-heartedness 
and  selfishness  are  in  the  bad.  A  white  handkerchief 
that  would  not  be  seen  in  the  sunlighted  snow  would 
gleam  like  a  star  on  a  heap  of  coal  a  furlong  away. 
Your  reform-school  candidate  is  no  more  generous  and 
free-hearted  than  my  hero;  probably  not  so  mucb  so,  for 
my  hero  will  always  stop  to  think  whether  his  gener- 
ous impulses  if  carried  out  will  do  more  harm  than 
good.     But  let  us  go  on  with  our  portraiture  :  — 

He  is  faithful,  my  good  boy  is.  You  can  trust  him. 
If  he  has  made  a  promise  —  and  he  never  makes  one 
that  is  not  right  —  he  will  fulfil  it,  if  it  is  within  the 
range  of  possibility.  He  is  always  at  the  post  of  duty. 
How  does  that  please  you  ?  Do  you  prefer  a  boy  that 
you  cannot  trust,  —  one  that  lets  his  post  of  duty  take 
care  of  itself  ?  We  have  spoken  of  soldiers  in  the  face 
of  the  enemy  :  who  do  you  think  would  make  the  best 
sentinel  ?  Whom  would  you  rather  trust  your  life  to  as 
you  slept  around  the  bivouac  fire  ? 

He  is  grateful.  Grateful  to  all  his  benefactors,  coun- 
try, parents,  friends,  teachers,  and  playmates.  Do  him 
a  kindness,  and  see  how  he  will  receive  it.  Do  you  ad- 
mire ingratitude  ? 

He  is  brave  and  manly.  He  is  not  afraid  to  do  his 
duty  even  in  the  face  of  ridicule  and,  if  it  should  come, 
cruel  persecution.  In  your  hearts,  what  do  you  think 
of  a  boy  or  a  man,  a  girl  or  a  woman,  who  is  afraid  to 
do  right  lest  he  should  be  laughed  at  ?  Do  you  think 
him  weak  or  strong,  wise  or  foolish,  noble  or  contempt- 
ible ? 

He  has  r/ood  habits.  He  believes  he  has  duties  to 
himself  as  Avell  as  to  his  fellow-men.  Nay,  he  knows 
he  cannot  properly  discharge  his  duties  to  others  unless 
he  takes  proper  care  of  himself.     He  regards  his  mind, 


68  CHABACTER  BUILDING. 

heart,  and  body  as  priceless  treasures  entrusted  to  his 
keeping ;  hence  he  does  all  he  can  to  keep  his  body 
healthy,  active,  and  strong,  his  mind  bright  and  clear, 
and  his  heart  warm,  pure,  and  unselfish.  Do  you  pre- 
fer the  boy  of  bad  habits,  who  enfeebles  his  body,  stu- 
pefies his  brain,  deadens  and  perverts  his  heart,  by 
unhealthful  indulgences  ?  Every  other  consideration 
aside,  which  would  naturally  make  the  more  agreeable 
compaftion  ?  Which  would  you  rather  do  a  summer's 
camping  ivith  ?  You  cannot  hesitate,  for  one  of  the 
inevitable  consequences  of  his  good  habits  is  that  — 

He  is  cheerful  and  light-hearted.  Troubles  that 
would  make  some  boys  miserable  he  laughs  at ;  bur- 
dens that  would  weigh  them  down  to  the  ground  he 
carries  as  if  they  were  feathers. 

Archibald  Watson.  Can't  a  boy  be  good  without  be- 
ing healthy,  strong,  and  bright  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  I  said  he  does  all  he  can  to  make  him- 
self healthy,  strong,  and  bright.  If  he  has  inherited  a 
feeble  body  or  brain,  he  may  at  least  cultivate  a  good 
heart  and  a  cheerful  temper ;  and  good  habits  will  re- 
duce his  misfortunes  to  their  minimum.  What  he  has 
not  received  he  will  not  be  held  accountable  for ;  the 
servant  who  had  received  but  one  talent  was  not  re- 
quired to  render  an  account  for  ten.  But  even  if  he  is 
not  naturally  vigorous,  he  may  be  all  I  have  described. 
Have  you  never  heard  of  feeble  invalids  who  have 
blessed  all  with  whom  they  came  into  contact  ? 


XIV. 
THE  KNIGHT   "SANS  PEUR  ET  SANS  REPROCHE." 

Dr.  Dix.  It  is  not  necessary  that  a  good  boy  should 
be  a  bedridden  invalid.  My  hero  does  not  happen  to 
be  unfortunate  in  any  such  way.  As  I  said,  he  might 
be  so  afflicted  and  yet  be  essentially  all  I  have  described 
him ;  but  so  long  as  he  is  not  he  enters  into  all  health- 
ful, invigorating  sports  with  twice  the  gusto  of  your 
scapegrace  with  enervating  habits. 

There  are  other  advantages  and  disadvantages,  be- 
sides natural  health  or  disease,  that  he  may  have,  which 
have  nothing  to  do  witli  vice  or  virtue  save  as  they 
may  serve  as  temptations  to  the  one  or  inducements  to 
the  other.  For  instance,  he  may  be  poor  or  wealthy, 
handsome  or  ugly,  graceful  or  awkward,  witty  or  dull ; 
he  may  be  what  is  called  well  or  luimbly  born.  These 
fortunate  and  unfortunate  accidents,  like  the  sunshine 
and  the  rain  which  fall  alike  upon  the  just  and  the 
unjust,  are  pretty  evenly  distributed  by  Fortune  among 
the  good  and  the  bad,  although  I  repeat  in  this  connec- 
tion what  I  have  said  before  :  If  by  wit  is  meant  that 
which  is  so  often  coupled  with  wisdom,  you  will  find 
the  greater  share  of  it  where  you  will  find  the  greater 
share  of  its  twin  blessing,  wisdom,  —  among  the  good ; 
and  as  to  personal  beaut}-,  there  is  nothing  that  will  en- 
hance it  like  the  frank,  clear  eyes  and  healthy  vigor 
that  right  living  gives. 

Julia  Taylor.  I  have  heard  a  great  many  times  that 
vice  goes  with  poverty  and  ignorance ;  that  the  greater 
proportion  of  criminals  are  from  the  lower  classes.  If 
that  is  true,  it  seems  to  me  very  unjust. 


70  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

Dr.  Dix.  In  naming  certain  favorable  and  unfavor- 
able circumstances  which  have  nothing  to  do  with  vir- 
tue and  vice.  I  took  pains  to  add,  "  save  as  they  may- 
serve  as  temptations  to  the  one  or  inducements  to  the 
other."  Great  as  are  the  temptations  of  wealth  and 
station  (and  the  advantages  which  go  with  them)  to 
certain  vices,  there  is  no  doubt  that  extreme  poverty 
and  ignorance  are  still  greater  temptations  to  other  and 
more  flagrant  sins.  Perhaps  I  should  have  said  these 
good  and  ill  conditions  are  pretty  evenly  distributed 
among  the  natm^ally  good  and  bad,  or  among  the  evil 
and  well  disposed.  Many  a  man  lives  a  fairly  good  life 
who  under  less  favorable  circumstances  might  be  a 
criminal.  Who  shall  say  that  he  is  really  a  better  man 
than  his  imfortunate  brother,  "  a  criminal  from  the 
lower  classes  "  ?  In  the  eyes  of  an  infallible  judge  the 
learned  dignitary  on  the  bench  may  be  worse  than  the 
miserable  wretch  he  sentences. 

But  let  us  return  to  our  typical  good  boy.  I  have 
heard  you  in  discussing  one  another  talk  about  such 
and  such  a  one's  being  a  "  mighty  good  fellow."  Let  us 
see  how  your  hero  compares  with  mine.  Tell  me  about 
your  "  mighty  good  fellow."     What  does  he  do  ? 

Geoffrey  Jenkinn.  Well,  he  's  always  good-natured 
and  full  of  fun. 

Dr.  Dix.     Yes  ;  go  on. 

Archibald  Watson.  He  's  always  ready  to  share  his 
good  things  with  the  other  fellows. 

Jonathan  Toiver.  He  's  always  ready  to  help  you  if 
you  're  in  trouble. 

Trumbull  Butters.  He  is  n't  always  bothering  you, 
and  he  does  n't  look  down  on  you  if  he  is  richer  and 
smarter  than  you  are. 

James  Murphy.  He  does  n't  go  round  telling  every- 
thing he  knows  about  you. 

Joseph  Cracklin.  He  does  n't  flare  up  at  every  little 
thing  you  say  in  fun. 


SANS  PEUR  ET  SANS  REPROCHE.  71 

Charles  Fox.  He  knows  how  to  play  ball,  and  tramp, 
and  fish. 

Louisa  Thompson.  He  is  kind  and  accommodating 
to  his  sisters. 

Henry  Jones.  He  knows  how  to  tell  stories  and  do 
lots  of  other  things. 

James  Murphy.  He  would  n't  lie,  nor  steal,  nor  do 
anything  sneaking  any  more  than  he  'd  cut  his  head  off. 

Henry  Phillip)s.  He  's  bright  and  clever,  does  n't  say 
soft  things,  and  is  n't  afraid  of  anything. 

Dr.  Dtx.  Except  what  is  bad.  In  short,  he  is  very 
much  the  same  sort  of  hero  I  have  been  describing. 
But  perhaps,  after  all,  he  does  things  my  good  fellow 
does  n't  do. 

Does  he  swear  a  round,  ringing  oath,  for  instance  ? 
Well,  mine  could  if  he  wanted  to.  It  does  n't  take  any 
great  amount  of  intellect  or  wit.  Your  good  fellow 
did  n't  invent  swearing,  did  he  ?  so  he  can't  claim  ori- 
ginality, and  anybody  can  imitate.  A  parrot  can  be 
taught  to  swear  the  biggest  oath  that  ever  fell  from  the 
lips  of  a  pirate  or  a  stable  boy.  Does  your  good  fellow 
feel  proud  of  an  accomplishment  in  which  he  may  be 
overmatched  by  a  parrot  ? 

Perhaps  he  is  beginning  to  take  a  social  glass.  "Well, 
what  superior  ability,  or  genius,  or  generosity  does  that 
show  ?  If  one  were  so  disposed,  it  could  be  done  as 
easily  as  to  take  a  glass  of  water ;  and  how  generosity 
can  be  shown  by  swallowing  anything  I  confess  I  am 
not  subtle  enough  to  understand.  Like  swearing, 
drinking  is  an  imitative  act.  I  once  heard  of  a  monkey 
who  could  toss  off  his  glass  of  wine  as  jauntily  as  your 
jolliest  toper.  A  fine  type  of  good-fellowship  that ! 
But  Jocko  was  more  sensible  than  his  human  boon 
companions  ;  for  when,  at  last,  he  took  enough  to  give 
him  a  headache  the  next  morning,  he  knew  enough 
never  to  repeat  his  folly.  Few  men  are  as  sensible  as 
that. 


72  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

There  is  no  patent  on  drinking.  It  is  open  to  all. 
It  is  as  free  to  my  good  fellow  as  to  yours.  He  can 
drink  whiskey  or  strychnine,  or  cut  off  his  fingers  with 
a  hatchet,  if  he  chooses,  just  as  easily  as  your  good 
fellow  can. 

Perhaps  he  smokes.  Another  imitative  act,  to  which 
the  same  train  of  remaxk  will  apply,  including  the  mon- 
key. Perhaps  he  chews.  Faugh  !  We  will  draw  the 
line  there.  To  associate  good-fellowship,  in  any  sense 
of  the  phrase,  with  such  ineffable  nastiness  is  too  gross 
a  misapplication  of  terms  to  merit  a  moment's  discus- 
sion. 

Trumbull  Butters.  The  first  man  who  swore,  or 
drank,  or  smoked,  or  chewed,  did  n't  imitate. 

Dr.  Dix.  We  will  allow  him  the  full  credit  for  origi- 
nality. Let  him  have  whatever  credit  is  due  him  for 
his  invention  or  discovery. 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.  But,  Dr.  Dix,  I  don't  understand 
that  men  do  these  things  to  show  their  genius  or  origi- 
nality. 

Dr.  Dix.     What  do  they  do  them  for  ? 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.  Why,  I  suppose  they  do  them  be- 
cause they  enjoy  them. 

D7\  Dix.  They  may  continue  them  for  that  reason, 
but  that  is  not  why  they  begin  them.  No  human  being 
ever  enjoyed  his  first  glass  of  whiskey  or  his  first  cigar. 
As  to  the  first  profane  oath,  whatever  poor  satisfaction 
may  have  accompanied  it  must  have  been  far  more  than 
offset  by  the  moral  shock,  the  inevitable  sense  of  sud- 
den degradation,  the  uneasy  consciousness  that  remained 
like  a  foul  taste  in  the  mouth.  ]S"o ;  men  don't  begin 
these  things  because  they  enjoy  them,  but  because  the^'' 
wish  to  be  thought  clever,  and  spirited,  and  jaunty,  and 
manly,  especially  —  like  the  parrot  and  the  monkey  — 
because  they  Avant  to  do  as  others  do. 

Joseph  Cracklin.  A  good  many  men  who  are  highly 
respected  both  smoke  and  chew. 


SANS  PEUR  ET  SANS  REPROCHE.  73 

Dr.  Dlx.  True.  Man  is  a  curious  animal.  He  has 
been  most  justly  called  a  bundle  of  inconsistencies. 
The  king  who  ranks  as  the  proverb  of  wisdom  did  some 
of  the  most  foolish  things. 

Such  habits  among  the  class  of  men  you  refer  to  sim- 
ply show  that  they  were  not  always  as  wise  as  they  are 
now.  There  was  a  time  Avhen  they  were  foolish  boys. 
I  know  an  able  and  highly  esteemed  judge  who  has  a 
pirate  flag  with  skull  and  cross-bones  complete  tattooed 
on  his  left  arm.  It  only  serves  to  remind  him  of  his 
ante-college  days,  when  he  read  dime  novels  and  formed 
a  plan,  with  some  of  his  equally  wise  and  virtuous  cro- 
nies, to  run  away  to  sea,  seize  a  ship,  and  change  its 
name  to  "  The  Black  Scourge  of  the  Atlantic."  {^Laugh- 
ter.'] 

Archibald  Watson.  Were  they  going  to  kill  the  cap- 
tain and  mates  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  I  believe  their  hardihood  did  n't  go  quite 
to  that  extent.  They  were  going  to  put  them  in  irons 
and  land  them  on  some  uninhabited  island,  I  believe. 

The  judge  that  I  told  you  of  smokes,  too,  and,  for 
aught  I  know,  chews.  He  looks  upon  both  his  pirate 
flag  and  his  tobacco  as  ineffaceable  scars  of  his  youthful 
folly. 

But  we  will  reserve  the  subject  of  Bad  Habits  for  a 
future  Talk.  I  want  to  say  a  word  more  about  my  hero, 
who,  though  every  inch  a  boy,  is  too  sensible  to  be 
caught  in  any  such  poorly  baited  trap  as  tobacco  and 
whiskey.  I  spoke  of  myself  as  a  hero-worshipper.  I 
regard  him  with  something  more  than  mere  approval 
and  admiration.  When  I  see  the  fine  scorn  with  which 
he  refuses  to  speak  or  even  act  the  smallest  lie,  the 
hearty  cheerfulness  with  which  he  prefers  the  comfort 
and  pleasure  of  others  to  his  own,  the  pluck  and  energy 
with  which  he  attacks  every  obstacle  in  his  path  of 
duty,  his  inexhaustible  store  of  boyish  fun  and  good 
humor,  and  especially  when  I  see  his  unassuming  mod- 


74  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

esty,  as  if  lie  were  utterly  unconscious  of  doing  or  being 
anything  particularly  worthy  of  praise,  how  can  I  help 
being  a  hero-Avorshipper  ?  I  can  admire  a  beautiful 
landscape  or  a  beautiful  statue,  but  a  beautiful  soul  I 
can  more  than  admire,  —  I  can  love  it. 

Nothing  is  beautiful  or  lovable  that  is  not  good. 
Beautiful  evil  exists  only  in  poetry  and  romance.  We 
may  admire  the  picturesque  villain  on  the  stage  or  in 
the  novel,  but  in  actual  life  we  only  abhor  him.  Mil- 
ton's magnificent  Satan,  Goethe's  clever  Mephistopheles, 
would  be  simply  horrible  as  realities.  The  thoroughly 
bad,  if  there  were  such,  would  never  love,  even  among 
themselves  ;  they  would  herd  together  simply  for  the 
advantage  of  concerted  action  ;  when  they  had  no  com- 
mon prey  outside  they  would  prey  upon  one  another. 
Even  if  they  were  capable  of  love,  —  other  than  that 
purely  selfish  passion  miscalled  by  that  name,  —  there 
would  be  nothing  to  call  it  forth,  for  ev^en  the  worst 
people  love  only  what  is  good,  real  or  imaginary,  in  one 
another.  Kindness,  generosity,  self-sacrifice,  fidelity, 
square-dealing,  bravery,  strength,  wit,  and  beauty,  — 
these,  and  such  as  these,  are  the  qualities  that  are  really 
loved  amonsr  either  the  good  or  the  bad. 


XV. 
THE  ATTRACTIVENESS  OF  VICE. 
Dr.  Dix. 

"  Vice  is  a  monster  of  so  frightful  mien, 
As,  to  be  hated,  needs  but  to  be  seen." 

Would  it  were  always  so  !  Too  often,  however,  the 
fact  is  exactly  the  reverse.  The  "  monster  "  generally 
approaches  with  a  most  charming  front,  a  most  fascinat- 
ing smile,  and  the  "  frightful  mien  "  is  assumed  Avhen 
it  is  too  late  to  escape  from  her  clutches.  No,  not  quite 
that ;  it  is  never  too  late  to  escape,  if  the  victim  is 
only  willing  to  make  the  sui)reme  effort. 

Her  charming  front,  her  fascinating  smile,  is  a  clever 
disguise.  She  must  needs  put  it  on,  else  she  would 
never  secure  her  prey.  In  order  that  temptations  may 
tempt  they  must  be  tempting  ;  only  gudgeons  are'  silly 
enough  to  be  caught  with  a  bare  hook. 

Boys,  do  any  of  you  look  with  admiration  and  envy 
upon  what  is  known  as  the  "  fast  young  man  "  ?  Do  any 
of  you  look  forward  to  the  time  when  you  hope  to  be 
as  gay  and  reckless  as  he  ?  Look  a  little  further ;  you 
may  see  him  in  all  stages  of  his  career.  The  wretched 
old  sot  that  you  all  view  with  pity,  horror,  and  disgust 
was  once  as  gay  and  debonair  as  he. 

Girls,  do  any  of  you  find  him  your  most  agreeable 
and  fascinating  companion  ?  The  poor,  starved,  terri- 
fied wife,  fleeing  for  her  life,  once  looked  with  your 
eyes  and  listened  with  your  ears.  She  no  longer  re- 
gards with  secret  admiration  the  gay  young  gallant  toss- 
ing off  his  glass  of  sparkling  wine.  There's  no  cure 
like  satiety. 


76  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

There  is  a  time  in  all  communities  when  every  one, 
whether  ordinarily  inclined  to  smile  indulgently  upon 
the  "  fast  young  man "  or  not,  turns  to  him  the  cold 
shoulder.  It  is  when  some  terrible  crime  has  filled 
every  heart  with  horror  and  with  loathing.  It  is  then, 
if  never  before,  that  men  of  true  and  tried  worth  are 
appreciated  at  their  real  value.  Then  the  common  heart 
goes  out,  not  to  brilliant  recklessness  or  graceful  vice 
of  any  kind,  but  to  unfailing  virtue.  No  matter  how 
dull,  awkward,  or  simple  a  man  may  be,  if  he  be  only 
true  and  good.  Then  every  man's  life  and  character  are 
rigidly  scrutinized  in  the  universal  questioning  as  to 
who  may  next  turn  out  a  villain. 

But  it  is  not  at  such  times  alone  that  this  is  the  ques- 
tion deep  down  in  every  heart.  There  is  never  an  hour 
when  the  man  of  tried  virtue  and  steady  sobriety  of 
habits  is  not  more  in  demand  in  all  the  real  business  of 
life  than  his  dissolute  neighbor,  however  gay  and  fasci- 
nating. There  is  never  an  hour  when  you  will  not 
place  your  life  and  property  in  the  keeping  of  a  man 
distinguished  for  the  homely  virtues,  i-ather  than  in 
that  of  the  most  brilliant  reprobate  that  ever  tossed  off 
his  glass  of  sparkling  champagne. 

George  Williams.  Dr.  Dix,  allow  me  to  say  that  I 
think  there  are  a  great  many  exceptions  to  the  rule  you 
have  just  stated.  I  can  name  a  long  list  of  names  of 
men  of  notoriously  vicious  habits,  who  nevertheless 
seem  to  have  been  trusted  in  the  most  important  affairs 
of  life.  They  have  been  employed  to  carry  into  execu- 
tion great  financial  schemes,  to  command  armies,  and 
esj)ecially  to  manage  affairs  of  state. 

Dr.  Dix.  I  see  that  I  have  not  made  my  meaning  quite 
plain.  I  compared  the  man  of  homely  virtue  with  the 
man  of  brilliant  vice.  I  emphasized  the  homeliness  of 
the  one  and  the  brilliancy  of  the  other.  Perhaps  tliig 
was  hardly  fair  to  the  former.  I  have  already  enlarged 
upon  the  fact  that  vice  has  no  monopoly  of  the  intellect 


THE  ATTRACTIVENESS  OF  VICE.  77 

and  energy  of  the  world  ;  on  the  contrary,  I  have  shown 
that  virtuous  living  conduces  directly  to  the  development 
of  power,  while  vicious  living  tends  as  directly  to  its 
enervation.  Of  course,  stupidity  and  ignorance,  how- 
ever combined  with  virtue,  cannot  be  trusted  to  accom- 
plish results  that  demand  intelligence  and  skill ;  but  if 
I  implied  that  my  man  of  homely  virtue  was  lacking  in 
intelligence  and  skill,  I  certainly  did  not  intend  to  do 
so.  I  emphasized  the  brilliancy  of  the  other,  but  it  was 
the  brilliancy  of  vice,  not  of  intelligence,  —  the  fasci- 
nating personal  presence,  and  low  cunning  in  the  execu- 
tion of  dishonorable  schemes,  that  distinguish  many 
famous  but  iin2)rincipled  men.  I  also  emphasized  the 
homeliness  of  virtue,  but  I  used  the  word  in  no  reproach- 
ful sense.  There  is  a  sort  of  homeliness  that  we  all 
value,  admire,  and  trust.  When  a  heavy  structure  is  to 
be  supported,  the  homeliness  of  the  solid  granite  column 
is  always  preferred  to  the  painting  and  gilding  of  the 
hollow  shaft  of  wood. 

Again,  I  have  said  that  few  men  are  utterly  bad. 
Those  who  are  known  to  be  so  are  never  trusted  — 
nowadays  at  least  —  with  "great  financial  schemes," 
"  the  command  of  armies,"  or  •'  the  affairs  of  state." 
Men  may  have  '*  notoriously  vicious  habits "  united 
Avith  great  intellectual  power,  but  they  must  have  —  or 
at  least  must  be  believed  to  have  —  enough  moral  prin- 
ciple behind  it  all  to  render  them  safe,  or  they  will  not 
be  trusted.  Whatever  a  man's  talents  may  be,  if  he  is 
of  doubtful  moral  character  the  question  will  always  be, 
in  any  of  the  affairs  you  have  named,  is  his  ability 
preeminent  enough  to  make  it  worth  while  to  run  the 
risk  of  his  possible  rascality  ? 

In  order  that  two  things  may  be  justly  compared,  they 
must  be  compared  ^-'C'"  ^''i  ceteris  j^aribus}  Given  equal 
ability  and  skill  (and  among  these  I  do  not  include  the 
tinsel  brilliancy  of  the  "  fast  young  man "  or  that  of 

^  By  themselves,  other  things  heing  equal. 


78  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

the  more  developed  rascal  of  later  years),  vice  stands  no 
chance  whatever  in  the  competition  with  virtue,  either 
in  matters  of  finance,  war,  or  statesmanship. 

Joseph  Cracld'm.  Sometimes  the  low  cunning  of  the 
rascal  that  you  have  spoken  of  is  the  very  quality  that 
is  needed  to  carry  forward  an  enterprise  ;  then  which 
stands  the  best  chance  ? 

Dr.  Dlx.  I  have  been  speaking  of  the  community  of 
respectable,  honest  citizens,  not  of  thieves  and  robbers. 

Jonathan  Toicer.  You  remarked  a  few  minutes  ago 
that  men  who  are  known  to  be  thoroughly  bad  are  not 
trusted  with  the  management  of  great  enterprises  noiv- 
adays ;  was  there  ever  a  time  when  they  were  ?  I 
mean,  of  course,  among  civilized  nations. 

Dr.  Dlx.  Civilized  nations  have  not  always  been  as 
good  and  wise  as  they  are  to-day.  The  centuries  have 
not  passed  in  vain.  Yes,  Tower,  great  villains  have 
been  trusted  over  and  over  again,  and  always  Avith  the 
same  result :  final  disaster  to  themselves  and  to  those 
who  trusted  them.  By  bitter  experience  men  have 
learned  that  nothing  is  to  be  hoped  from  cupidity  and 
selfish  ambition,  unredeemed  by  some  degree,  at  least, 
of  honor  and  patriotism,  however  great  may  be  the  tal- 
ents which  accompany  them. 

Jonathan  Tower.  Was  not  Napoleon  I.  a  great  vil- 
lain, and  yet  was  he  not  of  incalculable  benefit,  not 
only  to  France,  but  to  the  world  ? 

Dr.  Dlx.  The  fact  that  he  was  the  means  of  so  much 
good  proves  conclusively  to  my  mind  that  he  was  not 
an  unmitigated  villain.  jSTo  doubt  his  own  glory  was 
first  in  his  heart,  but  that  of  France  was  at  least  sec- 
ond ;  and  ambitious  as  he  was,  I  do  not  believe  he  would 
ever  have  consented  to  raise  himself  upon  the  ruins  of 
his  country.  Kemember,  too,  that  oSTapoleon  I.  had  his 
Moscow,  his  Waterloo,  and  his  St.  Helena.  But  there 
are  not  wanting  in  history  examples  of  ambition  as  tow- 
ering as  his.     Alexander  raised  his  country  to  the  pin- 


THE  ATTRACTIVENESS  OF  VICE.  79 

nacle  of  magnificence,  only,  by  refusing  to  appoint  his 
heir,  to  pull  it  clown  at  Ids  death  about  the  heads  of  his 
successors,  as  Samson  pulled  down  the  temple  of  the 
Philistines. 

Thus  it  has  always  been,  and  thus  it  always  will 
be.  A  thoroughly  unprincipled  and  selfish  man  can  be 
trusted  only  so  long  as  his  own  interests  are  subserved 
with  the  interests  of  those  who  trust  him. 

Upon  the  Athenian  Alcibiades  both  Nature  and  For- 
tune seemed  to  vie  with  each  other  in  showering  their 
richest  gifts.  Brilliant  and  powerful  in  intellect,  cour- 
ageous and  energetic  in  character,  vigorous  and  graceful 
in  body,  of  unbounded  wealth  and  most  noble  ancestry, 
he  was  indeed  a  paragon  among  that  race  of  paragons. 
"Who  can  help  being  deeply  interested  in  such  a  charac- 
ter ?  As  we  read  his  story,  how  we  long  to  learn  that 
he  was  as  honorable,  prosperous,  and  happy  as  he  was 
clever,  brave,  and  beautiful !  But  how  our  admiration 
cools  as  we  f ollovr  him  through  his  career  of  heart- 
less ambition,  ingratitude,  and  treachery,  till  Ave  have 
scarcely  pity  left  for  his  tragic  death  and  ignominious 
burial ! 

What  a  life,  and  what  a  death !  How  glorious  they 
might  have  been  had  those  marvellous  intellectual  and 
physical  endowments  been  accompanied  by  a  pure 
heart !  As  it  was,  they  were  like  instruments  of  exqui- 
site workmanship,  capable  of  doing  great  good  or  evil 
according  as  they  are  in  good  or  evil  hands. 


XVI. 
CREEPING,  WALKING,  AND  FLYING. 

Dr.  Dix.  One  of  the  most  powerful  orations  I  ever 
listened  to  was  a  New  Year's  sermon.  The  speaker, 
already  renowned  for  his  burning  eloquence,  surpassed 
himself.  He  seemed  like  one  inspired.  From  begin- 
ning to  end  his  audience  sat  rapt,  almost  breathless,  in 
their  eagerness  not  to  lose  a  drop  of  that  flashing  stream 
of  eloquence.  It  seemed  impossible  that  there  should 
have  been  one  in  that  multitude  who  could  resist  the 
appeal ;  as  if  every  one  must  perforce  resolve  from  that 
day  to  live  the  noble  life  so  graphically  pictured  to 
them. 

On  our  way  home  I  said  something  like  this  to  a 
middle-aged  friend  of  mine.  He  admitted  the  power  of 
the  address,  "  but,"  said  he,  "  it  won't  last.  By  to- 
morrow night  nine  tenths  of  it  will  be  forgotten.  I 
used  to  become  an  immaculate  saint  every  New  Year's ; 
but  I  got  over  that  long  ago.  I  found  it  was  of  no  use. 
It 's  easy  enough  to  talk  about  flying  into  the  upper  air, 
but  when  it  comes  to  the  actual  flying  —  we  find  we 
have  n't  got  the  wings." 

"And  so,"  I  said,  "you  think  such  discourses  as  we 
have  heard  to-day  do  no  good  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  did  n't  say  that,"  he  answered  ;  "  I  did  n't  say 
it  would  all  be  forgotten,  —  I  said  nine  tenths.  And 
then  even  a  temporary  lift  is  better  than  no  lift.  If  it 
does  n't  permanently  raise  us,  perhaps  it  keeps  us  from 
sinking  lower.  If  our  consciences  did  n't  get  a  stirring 
up  once  in  a  while  they  would  die  from  stagnation." 

His  comparison  was  a  very  good  one.     As  our  bodies 


CREEPING,    WALKING,  AND  FLYING.  81 

are  held  down  to  earth  by  gravitation,  so  our  souls  are 
held  down  by  our  passions  and  appetites,  and  especially 
by  the  never-ceasing  gravitation  of  habit.  A  stone 
thrown  upward  by  a  single  impulse  will  quickly  come 
down  again :  in  order  to  continue  its  ascent  there  must 
be  constant  applications  of  power,  like  the  beats  of  the 
sagle's  Avings  as  he  soars  towards  the  heavens. 

Frederick  Fox.  What  good  does  it  do  to  throw  the 
stone  up  at  all  ?  It  will  come  down  again  just  as  low  as 
it  was  before. 

Dr.  Dix.  It  may,  and  it  may  not.  It  may  be  thrown 
from  the  bottom  of  a  well  to  the  surface,  thence  to 
the  house-top,  thence  to  the  hill-top,  thence  by  succes- 
sive throws  to  the  mountain-top. 

The  moral  world  is  no  more  truly  a  plain  than  the 
physical  world.  It  has  its  deep  abysses,  its  hills,  its 
mountains,  and  —  its  clouds.  We  cannot  rest  in  the 
moral  clouds  any  more  than  we  can  in  the  physical 
clouds.  ■  Even  the  eagle  with  his  mighty  wings  must  find 
his  permanent' resting-place  upon  the  solid  earth ;  but 
he  does  not  rest  in  the  depths  of  the  mines  nor  in  the 
valleys  ;  his  eyry  is  high  up  among  the  mountain  crags. 

The  inspiring  oration  I  told  you  of  was  a  single  im- 
pulse upward.  With  some  of  those  who  heard  it  the 
fall  backward  may  have  been  to  the  same  old  level,  or 
even  to  a  lower  one  ;  but  it  need  not  have  been.  Some 
of  them  doubtless  were  permanently  lifted.  But,  as  I 
said,  the  ascent  could  not  continue  without  constant  up- 
ward impulses,  new  efforts  every  day,  like  the  beating 
of  wings.  Even  those  who  were  permanently  lifted 
maintained  their  vantage-ground  only  by  clinging  and 
bracing  themselves  ;  for,  remember,  the  path  of  virtue  is 
up  a  steep  mountain  side.  Eew,  if  any,  ever  reach  the 
summit.  Remember  also  that  the  mountain  is  a  inound, 
not  a  cone  nor  a  pyramid.  The  path  is  steepest  at  the 
bottom  :  the  higher  we  climb,  the  easier  the  climbing 
and  the  firmer  the  foothold. 


82  CRAEACTEB  BUILDING. 

Have  these  Talks,  or  others  that  you  have  heard, 
or  books  that  you  have  read,  iutluenced  any  of  you  to 
make  good  resolutions  which  seemed  at  first  easy  to 
carry  out,  but  which  afterward  proved  too  difficult  for 
you  ?  And  have  you,  therefore,  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  there  is  no  use  in  trying  further  ? 

As  my  friend  said,  there  is  a  vast  difference  between 
talking  and  doing ;  between  laying  out  a  course  of  ac- 
tion and  carrying  it  into  execution. 

Suppose  a  weak-armed  boy  should  say  with  desperate 
resolution,  "  I  tvill  lift  that  weight ! "  Suppose  a 
young  mathematician  should  clinch  his  teeth  together 
and  say  to  himself,  "  I  tuill  solve  that  problem  !  "  Then 
suppose,  on  making  the  trial,  both  should  find  that  they 
had  resolved  to  do  the  impossible  :  would  that  be  a  suf- 
ficient reason  why  they  should  give  up  trying  ?  No  : 
let  them  begin  with  tasks  within  their  power  ;  let  them 
do  what  is  possible.  They  will  find  as  time  goes  on  that 
they  can  do  more  and  more,  until  finally  the  big.  weight 
is  lifted  and  the  eclipse  calculated.  And  let  them  re- 
member all  this  time  that  if  they  do  their  best  each 
day,  the  lifting  of  the  little  weight  at  first  is  as  merito- 
rious as  the  final  magnificent  feat. 

Archibald  Watso7i.  You  have  been  telling  us  the 
story  of  Milo  and  his  calf. 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes,  indirectly.  Now  give  me  as  famous 
an  illustration  of  the  exactly  opposite. 

Jajie  Slmpso7i.    The  eyeless  fishes  in  Mammoth  Cave. 

Dr.  Dix.     Yes,  —  another. 

Helen  Smvyer.     The  slave-holding  ants  of  Texas. 

Dr.  Dix.     Tell  us  about  them. 

Helen  Sawyer.  After  generations  of  dependence  they 
have  become  so  helpless  that  they  cannot  even  feed 
themselves,  and  must  die  of  starvation  in  the  midst  of 
abundant  food  when  deprived  of  their  slaves. 

Dr.  Dix.  An  unhajDpy  condition  which  is  almost  ex- 
actly paralleled  by  some  classes  of  human  society,  people 


CREEPING,    WALKING,  AND  FLYING.  83 

who  both  by  inheritance  and  habit  have  become  so  de- 
pendent upon  their  wealth,  and  the  immunity  from  all 
kinds  of  effort  which  wealth  secures,  that  when  sud- 
denly deprived  of  it  they  are  totally  helpless :  mental, 
moral,  and  physical  idleness  have  so  enervated  them 
that  they  cannot  do  by  a  supreme  effort  what  the  man 
brought  up  to  labor  does  almost  without  effort. 

Suppose  one  of  these  unhappy  beings,  who  has  inher- 
ited mental,  moral,  and  physical  helplessness  from  a 
line  of  wealthy  and  idle  ancestors,  should  chance  to 
hear  an  eloquent  discourse  on  the  nobility  and  advan- 
tages of  labor;  and  suppose  that,  in  the  enthusiasm 
kindled  by  the  eloquence,  he  should  form  a  sudden  reso- 
lution to  live  thenceforth  a  life  of  steady  industry.  He 
begins  with  plenty  of  zeal  and  spasmodic  energy ;  but 
in  a  few  days  —  in  a  few  hours,  it  may  be  —  his  zeal  has 
burnt  itself  out  and  Ids  feeble  energies  are  exhausted. 
The  result  is  inevitable.  It  is  not  enough  to  exercise 
the  will-power.  That  is  always  able  to  choose  between 
right  and  wrong ';  but  not  to  do  an  impossibility  is  not 
wrong.  It  is  not  enough  to  will  to  do ;  there  must  also 
be  the  well-woven  fibres  of  brain,  muscle,  and  heart  to 
execute. 

Henry  Phillips.  Then  is  his  good  resolution  of  no 
use  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  That  is  what  I  am  coming  to.  He  receives 
a  sudden,  powerful  impulse  upward ;  must  he  necessa- 
rily fall  back  to  his  former  level  or  to  a  lower  one  ? 
iSTo ;  let  him  retain  some  of  the  vantage  that  has  been 
given  him,  if  it  is  but  a  step.  Then  let  him  take  an- 
other step  upward.  Since  he  cannot  fly,  let  him  climb ; 
if  he  cannot  walk,  he  can  at  least  creep  upward. 


XVII. 

THE  DOCTOR  IS  FAIRLY  CAUGHT. 

Dr.  Dix.  Confession  after  detection  is  not  generally 
very  highly  credited.  If  any  of  you  acknowledge  mis- 
chief that  I  have  already  detected,  you  hardly  expect 
me  to  make  much  allowance  on  account  of  the  confes- 
sion. Xow,  scholars,  I  have  a  confession  and  an  expla- 
nation to  make  to  you.  The  confession  is  not  worth 
much  for  the  reason  I  have  given,  —  I  have  been  fairly 
caught.  \_Sensation.'\  But  the  explanation  and  what 
else  I  have  to  say  will  be,  I  hope,  of  some  use  to  you. 

Last  evening  as  I  sat  in  my  study,  not  expecting 
visitors  on  account  of  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  one  of 
you  paid  me  a  business  call  and  caught  me  in  flagrante 
delicto.'^  I  was  in  the  very  act  of  smoking  a  cigar. 
There  was  no  escape;  it  would  have  availed  nothing 
to  throw  the  solid  evidence  of  my  offence  into  the  grate 
or  out  of  the  window,  for  the  air  was  thick  with  odor- 
ous, yea,  visible  evidence,  convincing  and  strong.  True, 
I  might  have  left  it  uncertain  as  to  whether  the  pungent 
fumes  which  filled  the  room  had  issued  from  my  own 
lips  or  from  those  of  some  recent  visitor  to  whom  I  had 
hospitably  allowed  the  liberty.  I  confess  that,  Avhen  I 
heard  the  rap  on  my  door  and  saw  through  the  glass 
the  familiar  form  of  one  of  my  pupils,  such  a  thought 
flashed  through  my  mind  ;  but  I  scorned  to  act  on  the 
thought. .  I  was  smoking  when  the  lad  knocked,  —  I 
continued  smoking  after  he  had  entered.  To  tell  the 
truth,  however,  I  was  not  so  unconcerned  as  I  appeared. 
I  marked  the  look  of  surprised  inquir}^  in  his  eyes,  and 
^  In  the  commission  of  the  crime. 


THE  DOCTOR  IS  FAIRLY  CAUGHT.  85 

felt  a  twinge  of  self-reproach  and  —  shall  I  confess  it  ? 
—  shame.  I  don't  think  these  feelings  were  so  much 
due  to  the  fact  that  he  had  seen  me  smoking  as  to  the 
fact  that  he  had  caught  me  doing  what  he  doubtless 
supposed  I  would  rather  conceal.  My  feeling  would 
have  been  very  different  if  he  had  seen  me  smoking  in 
the  open  street,  —  though  that  is  a  thing  that  I  should 
not  think  of  doing  any  more  than  I  should  think  of 
drinking  a  cup  of  coffee  in  the  open  street. 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.  Would  you  have  felt  the  same  if 
he  had  seen  you  drinking  a  cup  of  coffee  in  your  study  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  I  should  have  had  no  feeling  of  any  sort 
in  that  case. 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.  Why  should  you  have  had  any 
more  in  regard  to  the  cigar  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Why  do  you  ask  ?  Do  you  include  coffee 
and  cigars  in  the  same  category  ? 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.  Many  people  hold  that  both  are 
injurious  to  the  health. 

Dr.  Dix.     But  not  equally  so. 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.  Then  the  difference  in  the  fault  is 
only  in  degree,  not  in  kind. 

Dr.  Dix.  No,  Jenkins  ;  I  thank  you  for  trying  to 
palliate  my  fault,  but  I  don't  think  I  will  accept  your 
defence,  —  not  until  we  have  considered  the  matter  fur- 
ther, at  all  events. 

So  far  as  my  rights  and  privileges  are  concerned,  I 
suppose  no  one  would  charge  me  with  transcending 
them.  If  I  choose  to  indulge  in  what  I  must  acknow- 
ledge to  be  a  bad  habit,  in  the  privacy  of  my  own  sanc- 
tum, I  have  the  undoubted  right  —  liberty,  I  should  say ; 
there  is  a  great  difference  between  a  right  and  a  lib- 
erty —  to  do  so.  Furthermore,  I  don't  know  that  I  am 
under  any  moral  obligation  to  publish  it  abroad.  Hith- 
erto I  have  not  felt  bound  to  tell  you  that  I  smoke  my 
cigar  nearly  every  evening  and  Saturday  morning,  any 
more  than  I  have  felt  bound  to  tell  you  what  I  am  in 


86  CHAEACTER  BUILDING. 

the  habit  of  ordering  for  my  supper.  But  there  is  this 
difference  :  I  don't  care  whether  you  know  what  my 
supper  consists  of  or  not,  while  I  woukl  much  rather 
you  shoukl  not  have  discovered  that  I  smoke. 

Joseph  CrackUii.  "Why  need  you  have  mentioned  it, 
then  ?  The  boy  who  called  on  you  would  probably 
never  have  spoken  of  it  to  any  one. 

Dr.  Dix.  That  my  miserable  habit  has  made  such  a 
thought  as  you  suggest  possible  is  punishment  indeed  ! 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.  Why  would  you  rather  we  should 
not  know  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Why  would  I  rather  you  should  not  know 
I  smoke  ?  Chiefly  for  two  reasons :  First,  because  I  am 
thoroughly  ashamed  of  it. 

Louisa  Thompson.  We  all  know  that  you  were  a  sol- 
dier in  the  war,  and  everybody  was  always  willing  to 
excuse  him  for  smoking. 

Dr.  Dix.  No,  no,  no  !  that  was  no  excuse.  I  learned 
to  smoke  long  before  I  went  into  the  army.  I  suppose 
as  a  foolish  boy  I  was  as  proud  of  it  as  I  am  ashamed 
of  it  now. 

But  the  other  reason  is  a  much  more  important  one. 
I  would  not  under  any  consideration  be  the  means  of 
influencing  any  one  —  least  of  all  one  of  those  whom 
it  is  my  special  duty  and  pleasure  to  benefit  in  all  ways 
within  my  power  —  to  form  a  habit  which  I  knoAV  does 
no  one  any  good  and  is  the  cause  of  great  injury  to 
many.  It  is  with  the  hope  that  I  may  not  only  coun- 
teract the  unfavorable  influence  which  the  discovery 
of  my  weakness  might  exert  among  you,  but  even  do 
much  positive  good  besides,  that  I  decided  to  make  it 
the  subject  of  our  Talk  this  morning. 

I  have  at  least  this  advantage,  boys :  I  can  speak 
from  actual  personal  experience.  I  wish  you  to  observe 
in  the  mean  time  that  all  that  1  say  in  regard  to  the  for- 
mation and  growth  of  the  habit  and  the  increasing  dif- 
ficulty of  relinquishing  it  applies  with  equal  force  to 


THE  DOCTOR  IS  FAIRLY  CAUGHT.  87 

any  other  habit.  So  we  may  consider  our  Talk  to  be 
upon  the  general  subject  of 

HABITS, 

illustrated  by  one  of  them.  Xone  of  you  may  ever 
fall  into  this  particular  one,  —  I  sincerely  hope  you  may 
not,  —  but  all  of  you  have  already  formed  others,  good 
and  bad,  and  as  you  grow  older  you  will  form  still 
others.  In  fact,  the  greater  part  of  all  we  do  is  the 
result  of  habits.  ' 

I  see,  by  the  way,  that  I  was  wrong  in  my  conjecture. 
A  few  tell-tale  smiles  and  expressive  glances  show  that 
some  of  you  have  already  begun  to  forge  the  same 
chains  about  you  that  I  am  wearing.  Well,  boys,  let 
me  assure  you  that  you  will  not  always  feel  as  compla- 
cent over  them  as  you  evidentlj^  feel  now.  The  time 
will  come  when  some  of  you,  if  you  keep  on  as  you 
have  begun,  will  feel  as  I  feel  at  this  moment,  —  willing 
to  make  almost  t^ny  sacrifice  to  break  your  fetters,  al- 
most any  sacrifice  short  of  —  breaking  them. 

And,  girls,  though  none  of  you  may  ever  be  tempted 
to  smoke  cigarettes  or  to  color  a  meerschaum,  yet  there 
are  plenty  of  other  temptations  that  you  must  meet. 
So  if  you  mentally  substitute  them  for  tobacco  you  may 
profit  by  this  Talk  as  well  as  the  boys. 

To  illustrate  the  subject,  I  shall  give  you  now  and 
then  choice  bits  of  my  own  experience  with  the  fasci- 
nating tyrant,  which  will  perhaps  help  you  better  to 
judge  for  yourselves  whether  it  is  worth  while  to  culti- 
vate his  acquaintance  or  to  let  him  alone. 

I  learned  to  smoke  when  I  was  at  Grantham  Academy 
fitting  for  college.  I  don't  remember  that  my  conscience 
rebelled  in  the  least  at  that  time.  I  don't  think  the 
question  as  to  whether  I  was  doing  right  or  wrong  even 
entered  my  mind.  I  saw  other  boys  puffing  their  cigars, 
and,  partly  from  the  instinct  of  imitation,  which  leads 
us  all  more  or  less  slavishly  to  "  follow  the  fashion," 


88  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

partly  because  it  seemed  manly,  debonair,  I  heroically 
endured  the  agonies  of  initiation  into  the  practice. 
"  Agonies "  is  none  too  strong  a  word,  as  I  fear  some  of 
you  already  know  from  your  own  experience.  Boys, 
ought  not  that  very  experience  to  teach  us  what  a  ter- 
rible violation  of  nature  we  were  committing  ?  What 
but  a  deadly  poison  attacking  the  very  citadel  of  life 
could  blanch  our  faces,  cover  our  brows  with  cold  sweat, 
and  send  that  mortal  sickness  through  our  vitals  ? 
True,  Nature  speecflly  adapts  herself  to  the  new  condi- 
tion ;  that  is,  she  no  longer  warns  us  so  energetically 
of  the  true  character  of  the  enemy  we  have  admitted 
within  our  walls.  The  outside  sentinel  has  been  slain! 
But  the  enemy  is  no  less  deadly  for  that. 

Isahelle  Anthony.  This  morning's  "  Freetown  Pa- 
triot "  tells  of  a  young  man,  a  graduate  of  this  school, 
who  died  a  day  or  two  ago  of  "tobacco-heart." 

Lucy  Snow.  And  it  was  only  a  week  ago,  I  think, 
that  I  read  of  another  who  became  insane  from  exces- 
sive cigarette  smoking. 

Archibald  Watson.  If  the  tobacco  habit  keeps  on  at 
this  rate,  it  bids  fair  to  become  almost  as  fatal  as  tight- 
lacing.     \Ijaucihter.'\ 

Susan  Perkins.  Or  champagne  and  absinthe  drink- 
ing. 

Frederick  Fox.     Or  low  necks  and  pneumonia. 

Dr.  Dix.  Both  sexes  have  their  full  burden  of  re- 
sponsibility for  suicidal  practices.  As  I  said,  in  our 
onslaught  upon  tobacco  we  will  include  all  bad  habits 
and  practices. 

The  authorities  of  the  Naval  Academy  at  Annapolis 
tell  us  that  an  appallingly  large  percentage  of  their 
applicants  for  admission  are  rejected  because  their  con- 
stitutions have  become  irreparably  injured  by  smoking. 

Julia  Taylor.  What  a  frightful  sound  there  is  in 
that  phrase  "  tobacco-heart  "  !  It  quite  makes  my  blood 
run  cold. 


THE  DOCTOR  IS  FAIRLY  CAUGHT.  89 

Dr.  D'lx.  Indeed,  it  has  a  frightful  sound !  How  it 
brings  up  before  the  imagination  the  human  heart,  that 
wonderful  organ,  so  gigantic  in  its  power,  so  delicate  in 
its  construction,  struggling  like  a  bird  m  the  coils  of 
some  venomous  reptile  !  No  wonder  your  blood  runs 
cold  as  you  realize  its  true  meaning.  And  yet  so 
mighty  is  the  force  of  the  habit,  so  completely  do  men 
become  enslaved  by  it,  that,  with  the  full  realization  of 
its  evils  and  dangers,  they  scarcely  make  an  effort  to 
escape.  I  once  heard  a  brilliant  young  physician  des- 
cant volubly  upon  the  nerve-and-heart-paralyzing  ef- 
fects of  tobacco.  "  In  no  other  form,"  said  he,  "  is  the 
poison  so  effective,  so  penetrating,  as  in  that  of  smoke." 
He  then  slowly  filled  his  mouth  from  the  cigar  that 
he  had  been  puffing  all  through  his  talk,  and  blew  it 
through  his  white  handkerchief.  "  There,"  he  said,  ex- 
hibiting with  evident  satisfaction  the  deep  brown  stain 
which  the  smoke  had  left,  "  that  is  pure  nicotine,  one 
of  the  deadliest  poisons  known  to  my  profession.  Im- 
agine that  in  contact  with  the  mucous  membrane  of  my 
mouth  and  lungs  by  the  hour,  as  it  was  for  a  second 
with  the  threads  of  my  handkerchief ! " 

Knowing  its  nature  and  effect  so  thoroughly,  why 
did  n't  he  spurn  it  from  him  as  he  would  have  spurned 
any  other  poison  ?  Ah,  none  but  the  slave  of  habit 
knows  the  completeness  of  its  mastery  ! 

Marij  Rice.  I  don't  think  we  girls  are  in  danger  of 
ever  foi-ming  habits  that  will  affect  us  in  that  way. 

Dr.  Dix.  I  trust  you  never  may.  But  there  are 
other  drugs  even  more  disastrous  in  their  effects  than 
tobacco,  to  whose  slavery  thousands  of  both  sexes  fall 
victims.  Let  me  remind  you  all  again,  boys  and  girls 
alike,  that,  though  I  am  speaking  of  one  habit  in  par- 
ticular, what  I  say  applies  with  even  greater  force  to 
many  others,  —  in  a  measure  to  all.  Ab  uno  discite 
omnes.^ 

^  From  one  learn  all. 


XVIII. 

THE  CHAINS  OF  HABIT. 

Frederick  Fox.  Dr.  Dix,  are  tlie  habits  you  spoke  of 
last  Wednesday  morning  immoral  simply  because  they 
injure  the  health  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  That  reason  alone  would  be  enough  ;  but 
there  are  other  reasons.     What  are  some  of  them  ? 

Isabelle  Anthony.  They  are  an  annoyance  to  our 
neighbors. 

Dr.  Dix.  Some  of  them  most  certainly  are  :  perhaps 
if  we  should  consider  further  we  should  find  it  to  be 
the  case  with  all. 

Joseph  Cracklin.  So  are  some  things  we  have  a  per- 
fect right  to  do. 

Dr.  Dix.     What,  for  instance  ? 

Joseph  Cracklin.  Well,  building  a  house  and  cutting 
off  our  neighbor's  view. 

Dr.  Dix.  A  more  fitting  comparison  would  be,  build- 
ing a  stable  or  some  other  nuisance  next  his  house,  and 
thus  interfering  both  with  his  health  and  his  comfort. 

Susan  Perkins.  Yes,  sir ;  and  the  law  often  recog- 
nizes that  as  wrong  and  forbids  it. 

Lucy  Snow.  Just  as  the  notice  is  posted  up,  "  No 
Smoking." 

Dr.  Dix.  A  most  excellent  illustration.  Well,  give 
us  another  reason  why  the  tobacco  habit,  for  instance, 
is  immoral. 

Florence  Hill.     It  is  filthy  ;  and  cleanliness  is  a  duty. 

Dr.  Dix.     Good.     And  why  is  cleanliness  a  duty  ? 

Florence  Hill.  Because  it  is  necessary  not  only  to 
our  own  health  and  comfort,  but  also  to  that  of  our 
neighbors. 


TRE  CHAINS  OF  HABIT.  91 

Dr.  Dlx.  Necessary  to  the  health  and  comfort  of 
both  mind  and  body.  It  is  a  duty,  like  all  other  duties, 
springing  from  a  principle  of  right.  AYe  should  be 
cleanly,  as  that  mirror  should  be  bright.  We  should  be 
cleanly,  healthy,  and  comfortable,  as  we  should  be  truth- 
ful, honorable,  and  unseltish.  Now,  let  us  have  another 
reason  why  the  habits  we  are  discussing  are  immoral. 

James  Muriyhy.  Because  other  people  may  follow 
ovir  example. 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes ;  I  have  already  alluded  to  that  most 
unhappy  consequence  of  our  misdoing.  If  for  no  other 
reason,  when  that  danger  comes,  we  should  strike  for 
freedom. 

Frederick  Fox.  Suppose  the  injury  to  our  own  health 
were  the  only  objection  to  the  habit,  would  it  be  im- 
moral ?  Was  it  wrong,  for  instance,  for  Ilobinson  Cru- 
soe to  smoke  his  pipe  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  That  is  a  very  interesting  question.  When 
Robinson  Crusoe  had  no  neighbors  to  injure  or  annoy 
or  set  a  bad  example  to,  how  was  it  possible  for  him  to 
do  wrong  ? 

Archibald  Watson.  But  he  did  have  neighbors,  — 
his  cats,  goats,  and  dogs. 

Dr.  Dix  \_smiHng'].  None  of  them  would  be  likely  to 
follow  his  example,  in  smoking  at  least :  as  I  remarked 
some  time  ago,  most  animals  are  too  sensible  ;  it  is  only 
the  one  that  most  resembles  man  in  shape  that  ever 
imitates  him  in  this  folly.  But,  granting  that  Robin- 
son did  his  full  duty  to  his  dumb  companions,  what 
other  duties  devolved  upon  him  ? 

Julia  Taylor.  As  has  already  been  said,  it  was  his 
duty  to  be  cleanly. 

Dr.  Dix.     Yes.     Go  on. 

Helen  Sawyer.  It  was  his  duty  to  be  as  cheerful  and 
contented  as  possible. 

Dr.  Dix.  But  why,  since  there  was  no  one  to  be 
affected  by  his  sullenness  or  discontent  ? 


92  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

Helen  Saivyer.  There  was  himself  to  be  affected  by 
it. 

Dr.  Dix.  Had  n't  he  the  right  to  do  as  he  chose  with 
himself  ? 

Helen  Sawyer.  No,  Dr.  Dix ;  because  he  did  n't  cre- 
ate himself. 

Dr.  Dix.  Eight.  But  even  suppose,  if  such  a  thing 
is  conceivable,  that  he  did  create  himself;  would  he 
then  have  had  the  right  to  do  what  he  pleased  Avith  his 
own  handiwork  ? 

Helen  Saivyer.  I  think  not,  unless  he  pleased  to  do 
the  best ;  for  the  best  only  is  duty,  as  you  have  said  so 
many  times. 

Dr.  Dix.  I  am  glad  the  lesson  has  been  so  well 
learned.  His  best  was  to  cherish  mind  and  body  to  the 
very  utmost  of  his  ability,  to  be  grateful  for  the  bless- 
ings still  remaining  to  him,  which,  as  you  remember, 
he  so  dutifully  offset  against  his  privations,  striking 
the  balance  in  favor  of  his  blessings. 

Let  us  now  return  to  the  particjular  subject  of  last 
Wednesday,  in  regard  to  which  I  have  somewhat  more 
to  say.  A  young  man  asked  me  how  it  is  that  men  can 
use  tobacco  as  they  do  without  dying,  if  it  is  such  a 
deadly  poison.  He  told  me  of  his  grandfather,  who  has 
used  it  for  at  least  sixty  years,  and  who  yet  seems  to  be 
strong  and  healthy  in  spite  of  it. 

I  have  known  even  more  remarkable  cases  of  tena- 
cious vitality  than  that.  I  am  personally  acquainted 
with  a  man  who  carried  a  bullet  in  his  brain  for  several 
years  after  the  war,  and  for  much  of  that  time  seemed 
as  well  as  ever.  Does  this  prove  that  bullets  are  not 
deadly  ?  Habitual  arsenic-eaters  have  been  known  to 
survive  single  doses  which  would  kill  a  dozen  people 
with  systems  in  the  normal  condition.  Would  you 
argue,  therefore,  that  arsenic  is  not  a  deadly  poison  ? 
The  life  force  seems  well-nigh  inexhaustible  sometimes. 
If  it  were  not  so,  neither  human  nor  animal  races  could 


THE  CHAINS  OF  HABIT.  93 

survive  the  terrible  strains  they  are  all  subjected  to  at 
certain  times  in  their  life  history.  I  have  no  doubt 
whatever  that  in  the  case  of  the  young  man's  grand- 
father it  is  as  he  says,  and  that  he  is  as  strong  and 
well  as  he  seems.  Doubtless  nature  endowed  him  ori- 
ginally with  very  great  strength  of  constitution,  which 
has  probably  been  still  further  favored  by  an  invigorat- 
ing out-of-door  occupation ;  but  it  is  pretty  certain  that 
he  could  not  have  kept  up  the  habit  through  all  those 
years  as  our  young  cigarette  smokers  practice  it  to-day  : 
he  would  doubtless  have  died  long  ago  of  ''tobacco- 
heart."  We  must  not  lay  too  much  stress  on  the  fact 
that  there  are  people  who  arrive  at  old  age  in  spite  of 
this  and  other  destnictive  habits.  No  one  knows  how 
much  better  and  happier  lives  they  might  have  lived, 
or  how  much  healthier  and  stronger  they  might  have 
been  to-day.  Especially  no  one  knows  how  many 
others  of  feebler  vitality  these  same  habits  have  laid  in 
untimely  graves. 

I  have  no  wish  -to  exaggerate  the  evils  and  dangers  I 
am  urging  you  to  avoid.  Besides  the  moral  wrong  I 
should  commit  in  doing  so,  —  if  it  were  done  know- 
ingly,—  I  should  defeat  my  own  object.  Your  own 
observation  would  soon  reveal  the  exaggeration,  and 
lead  you,  perhaps,  even  farther  from  the  truth  in  the 
opposite  direction. 

Let  us  admit,  therefore,  that  multitudes  of  men  in- 
dulge in  the  use  of  tobacco  with  apparent  impunity; 
yet  reason  tells  us  that  the  impunity  is  only  apparent, 
that  the  penalty  is  exactly  in  proportion  to  the  degree 
in  which  nature  is  violated ;  and  the  solemn,  indispu- 
table fact  is,  that  countless  numbers  are  most  terribly 
injured  by  the  habit.  Like  all  other  life-sapping  prac- 
tices, it  is  especially  disastrous  to  the  young  and  unde- 
veloped. I  see  no  reason  to  doubt  the  highest  medical 
authorities,  who  declare  that  the  habit  of  cigarette 
smoking,  as  indulged  in  by  the  boys  and  young  men  of 


94  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

to-day,  is  capable,  in  a  few  generations,  of  making  the 
strongest  race  on  earth  the  feeblest. 

There  is  no  exaggeration,  boys,  in  these  statements. 
Let  me  make  one  more  :  The  easiest  way  to  escape  this 
or  any  other  bad  habit  is,  never  to  form  it.  The  old 
smoker  is  bound  by  chains  and  fetters  of  steel :  he  can 
escape  only,  if  at  all,  by  a  long  and  painful  struggle. 
You  whose  fresh  young  lips  have  never  been  contami- 
nated never  need  make  a  struggle.  You  are  forever 
free,  if  you  choose,  without  an  uneasy  moment. 

Geoffreij  Jenkins.  I  never  supposed  that  it  was  really 
painful  to  leave  oft'  smoking. 

Dr.  D'lx.  Painful!  Is  it  painful  to  feel  an  uncon- 
querable craving  for  something  that  is  easily  within 
your  reach,  and  yet  resolutely  let  it  alone  ?  to  feel  this 
craving  growing  stronger  and  stronger  the  longer  it  is 
ungratified,  for  days,  weeks  perhaps  ?  to  be  unable  by 
reason  of  the  torturing  hunger  to  remain  at  ease  in  any 
place  or  at  any  occupation  long  at  a  time  ?  No  one  can 
know  what  it  is  until  he  has  experienced  it.  It  is  the 
regular  and  natural  effect  of  stopping  the  habitual  use 
of  any  poisonous  stimulant.  Inveterate  users  of  alcohol, 
opium,  and  other  still  more  powerful  agents  which  I 
will  not  name,  often  become  raving  maniacs  when  de- 
prived of  what  has  been  their  chief  necessity.  The 
same  result  has  been  known  to  follow  the  sudden  de- 
privation of  tobacco. 

The  old  proverb,  "  An  ounce  of  prevention  is  worth  a 
pound  of  cure,"  applies  with  peculiar  force  to  the  for- 
mation of  this  and  all  other  bad  habits.  If  I  should 
say  what  I  have  been  saying  to  you  to  a  roomful  of  old 
smokers,  I  should  expect  that  my  words  would  accom- 
plish little  or  nothing.  The  probability  is  that  the 
majority  of  my  hearers  would  already  know  and  admit 
the  truth  of  all  I  have  said.  Yet,  like  the  young  doctor 
with  his  cigar  and  white  handkerchief,  they  would  go 
on  poisoning  themselves  with  calm  and  deliberate  un-' 
concern. 


THE  CHAINS  OF  HABIT.  95 

But  with  ijou  I  liope  and  expect  that  the  result  will 
be  different.  You  are  as  yet  unscathed,  —  most  of  you 
at  least,  I  hope  ;  you  have  scarcely  a  battle  to  wage.  If 
any  of  you,  with  full  realization  of  what  yovx  are  doing, 
deliberately  sell  yourselves  into  the  abject  slavery  which 
I  have  been  describing,  you  will  richly  deserve  all  you 
will  suffer.  If  I  had  realized  what  I  was  doing  when  I 
formed  the  habit,  I  firmly  believe  that  not  even  army 
life  would  have  betrayed  me  into  it. 

There  is  a  question  which  you  have  all  mentally 
asked  ;  only  your  politeness  and  respect  have  prevented 
your  asking  it  aloud :  "  Dr.  Dix,  why  don't  you  leave 
off  your  cigar  noiv  ?  " 

Well,  I  don't  say  that  I  shall  not.  I  have  tried  sev- 
eral times  and  failed.  That  is  a  humiliating  confession 
to  make,  is  it  not  ?  In  other  respects  I  believe  I  am 
not  wanting  in  resolution.  Heretofore,  however,  I  have 
not  been  conscious  that  my  bad  habit  has  injured  any 
one  but  myself.  That  is  wrong,  I  have  said  and  still 
say,  but  as  I  have  indulged  in  moderation  I  have  felt 
that  I  could  afford  the  tax  on  my  vitality.  Xow,  how- 
ever, I  have  a  new  incentive :  I  am  forced  to  choose 
between  setting  you  a  good  or  a  bad  example.  There 
can  be  no  possible  uncertainty  in  my  mind  as  to  which 
is  my  duty.  Nevertheless  I  shall  have  a  hard  struggle. 
May  that  struggle  of  mine  be  a  salutary  lesson  to  all  of 
you,  and  may  the  victory  which  I  hope  to  win  be  a  still 
more  precious  lesson,  teaching  you  never  to  despair, 
whatever  bad  habit  you  may  have  fallen  into,  when  you 
may  see  that  even  the  tobacco  habit  of  thirty  years' 
standing  may  be  broken. 


.  XIX. 
THE  ALCOHOL  HABIT. 

Dr.  Dix.  The  tobacco  habit,  which  we  have  been 
considering  at  some  length,  naturally  suggests  its  kin- 
dred vice,  the  alcohol  habit. 

You  are  all  familiar  enough  with  the  story  of  its 
ravages  :  how  it  changes  gardens  to  deserts,  homes  of 
thrift,  comfort,  and  happiness  to  abodes  of  wretchedness 
and  want;  how  it  tills  prisons,  hospitals,  and  alms- 
houses ;  how,  in  short,  it  ruins  body  and  soul  alike, 
transforming  a  man  to  a  fiend,  maniac,  or  imbecile,  and 
bringing  him  to  an  untimely  grave.  You  have  heard  all 
this  from  your  earliest  childhood ;  and  although  not 
every  man  who  takes  his  social  glass  pays  the  full 
penalty  of  his  daring,  you  know  well  that  there  are 
countless  multitudes  who  do  pay  the  penalty.  What 
are  the  temptations  that  lead  men  deliberately  into  a 
habit  whose  possible  results  are  so  universally  recog- 
nized ?  It  is  principally  of  these  that  I  wish  to  speak, 
for  it  is  only  with  these  that  any  of  you  can  be  per- 
sonally concerned  at  this  stage  of  your  lives. 

Tell  me,  boys,  what  are  some  of  the  inducements  that 
tempt  a  young  man  to  take  his  first  glass  ? 

Archibald  Watson.  His  companions  invite  him,  and 
he  is  ashamed  to  refuse. 

Dr.  Dix.  Ashamed  !  Of  what  ?  Of  refusing  what  he 
does  not  want,  and  what  they  knoAv  he  does  not  want  ? 

Archibald  Watson.  He  is  ashamed  to  have  them 
know  that  he  does  not  want  it,  —  to  have  them  think  he 
is  a  "  tenderfoot." 

Dr.  Dix.     That  means,  I  suppose,  one  who  is  not,  at 


THE  ALCOHOL  HABIT.  97 

least,  an  incipient  drunkard.  So  a  taste  for  whiskey  is 
a  thing  to  be  proud  of,  is  it  ? 

Archibald  Watson.  It  is  not  a  thing  that  /should  be 
proud  of,  but  the  young  man  we  are  speaking  of  and 
his  comrades  might  be  proud  of  it. 

Dr.  Dlx.  I  did  not  suppose  you  were  speaking  for 
yourself.  I  presume  gambling  is  a  thing  to  be  proud  of 
among  blacklegs,  and  thieving  among  pickpockets.  The 
way  to  escape  the  influence  of  such  public  sentiment  is 
obvious  and  easy. 

Archibald  Watson.     To  find  different  society  ? 

Dr.  Dix.     Even  so. 

Joseph  Cracklin  \jcith  an  air  of  7-esentment'\.  The 
young  man's  comrades  may  be  neither  blacklegs  nor 
pickpockets ;  they  may  be  only  a  party  of  gay  young 
fellows,  who  like  a  good  time. 

Dr.  Dix.  We  will  speak  of  that  "  good  time  "  pre- 
sently. They  may  be  honest  enough,  as  Cracklin  says, 
so  far  as  money  is  concerned,  but  what  are  they  doing 
to  the  young  man  ?  They  might  far  better  rob  him  of 
his  last  penny  and  leave  him  otherwise  unharmed. 

Joseph  Cracklin.  They  probably  don't  think  of  the 
harm  they  are  doing  to  him.  At  any  rate,  they  don't 
try  to  make  him  any  worse  oft'  than  they  are  themselves. 

Dr.  Dix.  :N'o  ;  they  probably  "  don't  think."  That 
has  been  their  trouble  from  the  first.  But  we  will  let 
them  go  tlieir  way  and  turn  our  attention  to  him.  Sup- 
pose he  should  be  manly  and  sensible  enough  to  estimate 
things  at  their  true  value,  —  his  own  safety  of  body  and 
soul  and  right  for  its  own  sake  on  the  one  hand,  and 
their  passing  approval  on  the  other.     What  then  ? 

Joseph  Cracklin.  Why,  if  he  thought  there  was  any 
real  danger  of  his  becoming  a  drunkard  — 

Dr.  Dix.  If  he  thought !  Does  n't  he  know  there 
is  ?  What  right  has  he  to  believe  there  is  no  danger 
for  him  in  what  has  destroyed  so  many  millions,  none  of 
whom  were  any  more  anxious  to  be  destroyed  than  he  ? 


98  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

Joseph  CrackUn.  If  he  tliouglit  enough  about  it,  of 
course  he  would  refuse. 

D)'.  Dlx.  Well,  it  is  a  matter  worth  thinking  about. 
What  would  be  the  worst  possible  consequence  of  his 
refusal ? 

Josepli  Cracldin.  They  would  set  him  down  as  a 
muff,  a  fellow  with  no  fun  in  him. 

Dr.  Dix.  And  perhaps  might  find  him  so  unconge- 
nial as  to  cut  his  acquaintance  ? 

Joseph  CrackUn.     Perhaps. 

Dr.  Dlx.     A  terrible  fate,  indeed ! 

Joseph  CrackUn.  They  'd  treat  him  civilly,  of  course, 
whenever  they  met  him. 

Dr.  Dix.  But  would  n't  honor  him  with  invitations 
to  their  convivial  dinners  ? 

Joseph  CrackUn.  As  he  had  already  declined  that 
sort  of  thing,  they  would  probably  think  it  of  no  use. 

Dr.  Dix.  And  would  that  be  likely  to  make  him  in- 
consolable ? 

Joseph  CrackUn.  A  fellow  does  n't  like  to  lose  his 
friends. 

Dr.  Dix.  Nor  would  he.  You  make  a  great  mistake, 
Cracklin.  They  would  do  a  great  deal  more  than  treat 
him  civilly.  There  is  not  one  of  those  gay  young  fel- 
lows, whose  friendship  is  Avorth  a  straw,  that  Avould  not 
secretly,  if  not  openly,  admire  the  courage  and  indepen- 
dence that  dared  to  say  No,  —  not  one  of  them  that 
would  not  in  his  heart  despise  the  imbecility,  folly,  and 
cowardice  that  would  accept  possible  ruin  for  fear  of 
ridicule  or  unpopularity.  Men  always  like  a  backbone 
better  than  a  string.  It  is  human  nature  to  despise 
those  over  whom  victory  is  easily  gained.  When  a  false 
friend  is  endeavoring  to  persuade  you  to  your  own  disad- 
vantage, yield,  and  you  win  only  his  contempt ;  firmly 
refuse,  and  he  at  once  acknowledges  you  as  his  superior, 
I  repeat,  not  one  of  those  gay  young  fellows  that  would 
not  in  his   heart   admire  the   exhibition  of   strength, 


THE  ALCOHOL  HABIT.  99 

courage,  and  independence,  and  most  heartily  wish  that 
he  possessed  the  same  noble  qualities. 

Joseph  Cracklin.  But  they  would  n't  really  like  him, 
for  all  that,  because  they  could  n't  have  any  fun  with 
him. 

Dr.  Dix.  Hold ;  let  us  see  about  that.  Fun  is  the 
natural  exercise  of  wit  and  light-heartedness,  is  it  not  ? 

Joseph  Cracklin.     Yes,  Dr.  Dix, 

Br.  Dix.     And  wine  and  whiskey  make  men  witty  ? 

Josep)h  Cracklin.     Sometimes,  not  always. 

Dr.  Dix.  There  is  no  wit  or  humor  except  what  alco- 
hol makes  ? 

Joseph  Cracklin.     Oh,  I  did  n't  say  so. 

Dr.  Dix.  Then  there  are  people  who  can  have  fun 
without  getting  drunk  ?  How  do  they  compare  with 
those  who  cannot  ? 

Joseph  Cracklin.  I  never  thought  of  it  in  that  light 
before.  I  don't  want  you  to  think  /  am  in  favor  of 
drinking. 

Dr.  Dix.  ISTone  of  our  talk  is  supposed  to  be  per- 
sonal. Scholars,  don't  you  think  a  man  who  cannot  be 
funny  or  light-hearted  unless  he  is  drunk  has  rather  a 
poor  claim  to  either  wit  or  jovial  spirits  ? 

Chorus.     Yes,  sir. 

Dr.  Dix.  And  what  is  a  company  of  young  men  who 
acknowledge  by  their  acts  that  they  cannot  enjoy  them- 
selves without  the  aid  of  alcohol  but  a  sorry,  stupid 
set,  after  all  ?  Compare  them  with  an  equal  number  of 
bright  young  fellows  whose  hearts  are  always  light  with 
health  and  a  clean  conscience,  whose  brains  are  unbe- 
fogged  and  unparalyzed  by  poison  of  any  kind.  The 
wit  of  these,  inspired  only  by  the  wine  of  native  genius 
and  good  spirits,  sparkles  like  the  pure  mountain  brook- 
let laughing  in  the  sunlight ;  the  wit  of  those,  fuming- 
from  the  cellar,  is  like  the  blue  flame  whose  fitful  gleam 
only  shows  how  heart,  brain,  and  body  are  slowly  but 
surely  burning  to  ashes ! 


XX. 

BENEFICENT  LIONS  AND  TIGERS. 

Dr.  Dix.  Can  any  of  yon  tell  me  how  it  is  that  alco- 
hol —  not  always,  indeed,  as  Cracklin  has  well  said,  bnt 
sometimes  —  makes  men  witty  and  light-hearted,  coura- 
geous, enthusiastic,  strong  for  a  sudden  effort  ? 

Jonathan  Tower.     It  stimulates  them. 

Dr.  Dix.  That  simply  repeats  the  proposition  with- 
out explaining  it. 

Isahelle  Anthony.  It  makes  the  blood  circulate  faster, 
and  it  is  the  blood  that  sustains  all  kinds  of  action  in 
our  bodies. 

Dr.  Dix.  So  healthy  exercise  in  the  fresh  air  quick- 
ens the  circulation. 

Isahelle  Anthony.  But  that  is  a  natural  stimulus, 
whereas  alcohol  is  not. 

Dr.  Dix.  True.  isTow  I  will  tell  you  how  alcohol 
stimulates  the  circulation  of  the  blood.  The  blood  cir- 
culates in  our  bodies  almost  exactly  as  the  water  cir- 
culates in  the  water-works  of  a  great  city.  Let  us  see 
with  what  minuteness  the  parallel  may  be  drawn. 
First,  there  is  the  great  engine  that  raises  the  water  in 
the  standpipe  or  reservoir,  and  thus  gives  it  ''head." 
What  is  that  in  the  body  ? 

Chorus.     The  heart. 

Dr.  Dix.  From  the  standpipe  or  reservoir  the  water 
is  forced  into  the  mains  branching  through  the  streets 
.like  — 

Chorus.     The  arteries. 

Dr.  Dix.  From  the  mains  it  is  carried  by  service- 
pipes  into  houses,  manufactories,  and  workshops.  These 
service-pipes  correspond  to  — 


BENEFICENT  LIONS  AND  TIGERS.  101 

Chorus.     The  smaller  arteries. 

Dr.  Dix.  Observe  that  up  to  this  point  neither  water 
nor  blood  has  done  any  work.  In  the  houses  and  manu- 
factories the  faucets  are  turned  as  the  water  is  needed. 
Then  and  there  it  does  its  work,  not  in  the  pipes,  but 
after  it  has  left  them.  What  are  the  faucets  which 
*'  turn  on  "  the  blood,  and  where  in  the  body  does  it  do 
its  work  ? 

Frank  Williams  \Jiesitatingly'\.     The  veins  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Xo ;  the  blood  enters  the  veins  after  it  has 
done  its  work,  just  as  in  the  city  the  water,  having  done 
its  work,  enters  the  — 

Chorus.     Waste-pipes. 

Dr.  Dix.  In  the  body,  however,  the  blood  enters 
these  "  waste-pipes "  only  to  be  purified  and  renewed. 
What  lie  between  the  arteries  and  the  veins  that  corre- 
spond to  the  kitchens,  bathrooms,  laundries,  and  work- 
shops of  the  city  ? 

Chorus.     The  capillaries. 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes.  It  is  in  the  capillary  network  that 
the  blood  does  all  its  work,  and  thus  enables  our  bodies 
and  brains  to  act. 

iSTow,  in  the  manufactories,  kitchens,  workshops,  etc., 
of  the  city  the  water  is  turned  on  only  as  it  is  heeded. 
Suppose,  however,  a  horde  of  reckless  vandals,  being 
admitted  to  the  city,  should  force  their  way  into  the 
various  apartments  where  work  is  harmoniously  in 
progress,  and  turn  on  the  water  in  full  stream  every- 
where at  once.  That  would  be  a*  quickening  of  the  cir- 
culation indeed !  Suppose,  moreover,  that  the  mis- 
chievous strangers  should  stand  their  ground,  forcibly 
preventing  the  faucets  from  being  closed.  There  would 
be  plenty  of  action  for  a  while,  though  anything  but 
harmonious  action.  But  it  would  only  be  for  a  while  : 
the  water,  that  at  first  quickened  and  strengthened  ac- 
tion, would  soon  clog  and  drown  it.  After  the  vandals 
had  been  finally  driven  out  and  the  faucets  had  been 


102  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

closed,  one  by  one,  and  after  the  surplus  water  had 
slowly  drained  away,  things  would  gradually  return  to 
something  like  their  former  condition,  save  here  and 
there,  where  the  sadden  flood  had  wrought  irreparable 
damage. 

This,  I  am  assured,  is  a  perfect  illustration  of  the 
physiological  action  of  alcohol.  Nature  opens  the  little 
entrances  to  the  capillaries  only  wide  enough  to  admit 
the  blood  as  it  is  needed  for  the  normal  action  of  our 
various  organs  ;  but  when  the  vandal  King  Alcohol  is 
admitted,  he  goes  raging  through  the  body  and  brain, 
paralyzing  the  capillaries,  and  "  turning  on  "  the  blood 
in  rushing,  drowning,  maddening  torrents  that,  in  spite 
of  subsequent  slow  repairs,  leave  here  and  there  irre- 
parable injury. 

And  that  is  how  it  makes  a  man  sometimes  witty, 
light-hearted,  and  energetic,  but  oftener  silly  and  absurd. 
No  Avonder  he  is  absurd  with  all  that  chaos  raging 
within.  Think  of  the  suddenly  flooded  kitchens  and 
workshojDS  of  his  poor  body  and  brain  ! 

But,  alas,  silliness  and  absurdity  are  not  the  only  or 
the  worst  effects  of  the  internal  deluge.  Too  often  it 
drowns  reason  and  conscience  together,  and  makes  the 
man  a  maniac,  a  suicide,  a  murderer. 

Joseph  CracMin.  Alcohol  sometimes  does  good  in 
the  human  system,  does  n't  it  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  That  is  a  question  for  the  physicians  to 
answer.  If  my  doctor  should  prescribe  it,  I  suppose  I 
should  take  it.  If  I  felt  called  upon  to  reason  upon 
the  propriety  of  his  prescription,  I  should  assume  that 
Nature  did  not  open  my  capillaries  wide  enough  to  meet 
a  sudden  emergency,  and  that  Alcohol  was  sent  to  help 
her,  not  as  a  vandal  horde,  but  as  a  quiet,  orderly  mes- 
senger. 

Frederick  Fox.  Should  you  never  feel  justified  in 
taking  it  except  upon  a  physician's  prescription  ? 

Dr.  Dix.     If  I  should  be  bitten  by  a  venomous  ser- 


BENEFICENT  LIONS  AND   TIGERS.  103 

pent  and  could  get  at  a  jug  of  whiskey,  I  should  drink 
all  I  could  possibly  swallow,  precisely  as,  if  the  whole 
city  were  on  fire,  the  obvious  remedy  would  be  to  fight 
conflagration  with  flood.  But  I  have  not  been  speak- 
ing of  the  use  of  alcohol  in  emergencies.  My  subject 
has  been,  not  alcohol,  but  the  alcohol  habit.  I  have 
shown  what  it  does  for  the  individual. 

Does  the  alcohol  habit  ever  do  any  good  ?  Political 
economists  and  biologists  speak  of  one  of  its  effects  on 
the  human  race,  which  we  must  acknowledge,  in  the 
long  run,  to  be  a  benefit.  I  will  illustrate  it  by  another 
comparison. 

What  is  known  as  the  survival  of  the  fittest  is  one  of 
the  two  great  principles  upon  which  depends  the  devel- 
opment of  the  races.  In  the  struggle  for  existence,  in 
both  the  animal  and  the  vegetable  kingdoms,  the  strong 
crowd  out  or  prey  upon  the  weak ;  those  best  adapted 
to  their  environments  survive  ;  the  rest  perish.  Among 
the  carnivores,  for  instance,  the  strongest  and  the  most 
courageous  destroy  their  antagonists  and  are  left  to 
feed  upon  the  feebler  races.  Among  these  latter  the 
strongest  and  most  active  and  cunning  only  escape. 
Thus  only  the  most  highly  developed  of  all  races  are 
left  to  transmit  their  superiority  to  succeeding  genera- 
tions. 

Frederick  Fox.  Has  n't  sheer  good  luck  sometimes 
as  much  to  do  with  their  escaping  as  their  own  strength 
or  cunning  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  You  must  learn  to  generalize,  my  boy.  A 
few  exceptional  cases  do  not  invalidate  the  general  law. 

Among  civilized  men  there  are  so  few  that  perform 
the  function  which  beasts  of  prey  perform  among  the 
animal  races  that  the  economy  of  nature  demands  some 
other  agents  to  suppress  the  inferior  elements  of  soci- 
ety and  leave  the  earth  a  heritage  for  the  superior. 
The  crowding-out  process  operates  to  a  certain  extent, 
it  is  true  ;  but  that  alone  would  be  insufficient,  at  least 


104  CHAEACTER  BUILDING. 

until  the  world  becomes  vastly  more  densely  populated 
than  it  is  to-day. 

Jane  Simpson.  Would  it  be  sufficient  in  such  a  city 
as  London  or  Paris  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  The  fearful  rate  of  mortality  among  the 
lowest  classes  in  such  centres  of  population  is  a  most 
striking  illustration  of  what  I  have  been  saying.  It  is 
not  due  to  the  crowding-out  process  alone,  however, 
even  there  :  the  other  agents  which  Nature  calls  to  her 
aid  in  securing  the  survival  of  the  fittest  among  men 
work  still  more  terrible  havoc  even  in  London  and 
Paris.  But  the  work  of  these  other  agents  is  not  con- 
fined to  densely  populated  centres,  which,  after  all,  in- 
clude but  a  comparatively  small  part  of  the  Avorld's 
population.  They  operate  in  country  as  well  as  in 
town,  where  there  is  plenty  of  room  and  provision  for 
all  as  Avell  as  where  the  feeble  must  necessarily  go  un- 
der.    What  are  these  other  agents  ? 

Florence  Hill.  I  suppose  the  alcohol  habit  is  one  of 
them. 

Dr.  Dix.  And  all  other  self-destructive  habits.  It  is 
these  chiefly  which  do  for  the  human  race  what  beasts 
of  prey  do  for  the  brute  creation.  Does  it  not  really 
seem  as  if  it  were  the  deliberate  policy  of  conscious  Na- 
ture thus  to  implant  in  the  most  undesirable  elements 
of  the  human  race  the  means  of  their  own  extermina- 
tion ?  The  worst  criminals  are  the  shortest-lived  class 
on  earth,  slain  by  one  another's  murderous  hands  and 
by  the  laws  they  violate,  but  in  enormously  greater 
multitudes  by  their  own  base  appetites  and  passions. 
It  is  not  crime  alone  that  is  thus  held  in  check  and  pre- 
vented from  overrunning  the  fair  earth ;  weakness  and 
inferiority  in  general  are,  as  a  rule,  accompanied  by 
that  moral  weakness,  that  lack  of  self-command,  which 
makes  them  an  easy  prey  to  the  cleansing  besom  of 
Xature. 

Thus,  for  the  good  of  mankind  at  large,  as  I  have 


BENEFICENT  LIONS  AND  TIGERS.  105 

shown,  the  wicked  and  the  weak  are  doomed  not  to  live 
o\it  half  their  days.  AVhen,  therefore,  you  are  tempted 
to  fall  into  the  alcohol  or  any  other  self-destructive 
habit,  ask  yourself  what  there  is  in  you  or  about  you 
that  should  lead  Nature  to  wish  to  exterminate  you  and 
your  type  from  earth. 

Julia  Taylor.  But  it  is  not  always  the  naturally  bad 
or  weak  that  form  these  self-destructive  habits.  Do  we 
not  often  see  and  hear  of  the  strongest,  the  most  gener- 
ous and  amiable,  the  most  brilliant,  falling  victims  ? 

Dr.  JJix.  Once  more  I  say,  you  must  learn  to  gener- 
alize. When  a  multitude  of  ruffianly  rioters  are  raging 
through  the  streets,  the  artillery  mows  them  down  with- 
out regard  to  an  occasional  noble  exception  that  may  be 
among  them.  So  Nature's  laws  must  be  enforced.  But 
even  in  the  cases  you  refer  to  there  must  alwa^^s  be 
some  weakness  joined  with  the  strength,  the  amiability, 
and  brilliancy,  —  moral  weakness,  if  no  other,  —  the 
perpetuation  of  which  woi;ld  not  be  good  for  our  race. 
No  drunkard,  opium-eater,  or  any  other  species  of  self- 
indulgent  suicide  ever  died  whose  mental,  moral,  and 
physical  make-up,  as  a  whole,  it  Avould  be  for  the  advan- 
tage of  mankind  to  perpetuate.  So,  I  repeat,  if  you  are 
tempted  to  fall  into  any  of  these  bad  habits,  ask  your- 
self why  Nature  wants  to  get  rid  of  you. 


XXI. 
TRUTH  AND  TRUTHFULNESS. 

Dr.  Dix.  Xow  let  tis  talk  of  some  of  tlie  habits  we 
wish  to  cultivate. 

In  estimating  the  values  of  things,  the  very  first 
question  we  ask  is,  Are  they  what  they  seem  ?  Is  the 
glittering  yellow  mineral  gold  or  only  iron  pyrites  ?  is 
the  brilliant  that  flashes  in  the  light  a  diamond  or  only 
paste  ?  is  the  smiling,  benevolent  face  that  appeals  to 
our  love  and  confidence  an  open  window  of  the  soul  or 
only  a  mask?  in  short,  is  what  we  see  and  hear  the 
truth  or  a  lie  ?  This  is  to  us  the  first  and  most  impor- 
tant test  of  the  values  of  either  men  or  things  :  hence  I 
shall  place  at  the  head  of  the  list 

THE    HABIT    OF    TRUTHFULXESS, 

in  word,  act,  and  appearance. 

In  a  previous  Talk  I  remarked  that  things  always  do 
their  duty.  With  some  rare  exceptions,  of  which  I  shall 
speak  in  due  time,  things  always  tell  the  truth.  Sup- 
pose it  were  not  so ;  suppose  we  lived  in  a  world  not 
only  of  artificial  but  of  natural  shams,  —  mountains, 
forests,  and  seas  not  really  mountains,  forests,  and  seas, 
but  only  seeming  so  ;  what  appeared,  for  instance,  a 
pleasant,  inviting  field  turning  out  a  frightful  precipice 
as  we  entered  it. 

Sally  Jones.  That  would  be  like  some  fairy  tales  I 
have  read. 

Dr.  Dix.  And  did  you  ever  think  you  would  like  to 
live  in  the  fairyland  you  read  about  ? 


TRUTH  AND  TRUTHFULNESS.  107 

Sally  Jones.  I  have  ofteu  tliought  how  delightful  it 
would  be. 

Dr.  Dix.  What,  never  know  at  what  moment  the 
pleasant  person  with  whom  you  were  talking  would 
turn  into  a  hideous  dragon,  or  your  magnificent  palace 
into  a  wretched  hovel  ?  always  expecting  to  be  caught 
up  into  the  air  or  sent  wandering  through  caverns  at  the 
bottom  of  the  sea  ?  liable  at  any  instant  to  be  trans- 
formed into  a  mouse  or  an  elephant  at  the  pleasure  of 
the  wicked  magician  who  lived  next  door  ? 

Sally  Jones.  .  But  there  would  be  a  good  fairy  who 
would  be  more  powerful  than  the  wicked  magician,  and 
she  would  turn  me  back  into  a  princess. 

Dr.  Dix.  And  the  poor  toad  that  had  befriended  you 
into  a  splendid  prince,  eh  ?  But  even  then  there  would 
always  be  other  wicked  magicians,  for  if  they  were  all 
dead  there  would  be  nothing  more  for  the  good  fairies 
to  do,  and  it  would  soon  cease  to  be  fairyland. 

I  sincerely  hope  the  time  will  never  come  when  fairy- 
land will  cease  to  exist  —  in  the  imagination.  The  de- 
struction of  Jack  the  Giant-Killer,  Santa  Claus,  Titania, 
Thor,  Juno,  and  Jupiter  would  be  an  irreparable  loss  to 
mankind.  It  would  be  to  the  world  of  thought  what 
the  destruction  of  the  blue  sky  (which  you  know  is  only 
a  beautiful  unreality)  would  be  to  the  world  of  sight. 
But  all  these  delightful  personages  and  their  delightful 
habitations  are  good  only  in  their  proper  sphere,  the 
imagination.  If  Miss  Jones  will  reflect  a  little,  I  think 
she  will  decide  that  the  real  world  is  better  to  live  in 
than  fairyland  would  be,  —  the  ground  she  walks  on 
real  solid  ground,  and  not  merely  a  thin  shell  covering 
vast  subterranean  caves,  into  which  the  next  step  may 
precipitate  her  ;  the  water  she  drinks  real  water,  and 
not  a  potent  charm  that  may  transform  her  into  a  mar- 
ble statue. 

Yes,  scholars,  most  happily  for  us,  things  tell  the 
truth,  —  they  are  what  they  seem. 


108  CHARACTEE  BUILDING. 

Helen  Mar.     Longfellow  says  quite  the  opposite. 

Dr.  D'lx.  Ah !  iu  that  line  Longfellow  refers  to  our 
misinterpretation  of  things.  It  is  only  of  the  dead  soul 
that  slumbers  that  he  is  speaking.  To  all  who  are  alive 
and  awake  life  is  not  an  empty  dream,  and  things  are 
what  they  seem,  earnest  realities. 

We  are  talking  just  now,  however,  of  things  in  a  more 
material  sense.  Our  earthly  habitation,  happily  for  us, 
is  not  a  fairyland  of  gorgeous  uncertainty,  but  a  well- 
ordered  reality,  to  which  our  senses  are  adapted  by  a 
corresponding  truthfulness.  I  remember  once  I  was 
standing  -on  a  railway  while  a  train  of  cars  was  ap- 
proaching. As  the  huge,  thundering  mass  came  nearer 
I  stepped  off  the  track  upon  another,  and  while  I  stood 
there  gazing  a  thought  passed  through  my  mind  some- 
what like  this  :  My  eyes  tell  me  what  track  the  train  is 
on.  Suppose  my  eyes  should  deceive  me,  that  the  train 
should  be  really  on  the  other  track.  My  life  would  then 
be  only  for  a  few  seconds  longer.  But  I  felt  no  doubt. 
Although  the  engineer  spied  me  and  sounded  his  shrill 
whistle,  I  stood  my  ground  in  perfect  confidence  that 
my  eyes  were  telling  me  the  truth  ;  and  presently  both 
eyes  and  ears  told  me  that  the  train  had  passed  on,  leav- 
ing me  in  safety.  Now,  the  sense  of  sight  is  only  one 
means  of  obtaining  information ;  the  speech  of  my  fel- 
low-men is  another.  Both  are  valuable  in  exact  pro- 
portion to  the  confidence  I  can  feel  in  their  truthfulness. 
But,  alas,  the  two  are  never  placed  on  the  same  footing. 
Every  one  says,  "  I  shall  believe  my  own  eyes  rather 
than  what  any  one  tells  me,"  thus  confessing  the  supe- 
riority of  nature  to  man. 

If  men  were  as  truthful  as  their  eyes  or  as  the  rest 
of  nature,  the  gift  of  speech  would  be  of  immeasurably 
greater  value  than  it  is.  So  great  is  its  depreciation, 
however,  that  it  has  given  rise  to  the  common  saying 
which  I  have  already  quoted  several  times,  "  Words  are 
cheap."     If  not  truthful,  they  are  far  worse  than  cheap, 


TRUTH  AND   TRUTHFULNESS.  109 

—  they  not  only  have  no  value,  but  they  are  a  positive 
curse,  like  the  counterfeits  that  vitiate  the  currency  of 
a  nation.  A  bank-note  has  no  value  save  as  it  repre- 
sents value  ;  and  its  representative  value  is  deteriorated 
in  exact  proportion  to  the  degree  of  uncertainty  in  re- 
gard to  its  redemption.  This  uncertainty  may  be  due 
to  either  or  both  of  two  causes  :  tirst,  the  untrustwor- 
thiness  of  the  government  or  corporation  which  issues 
the  note ;  and,  secondly,  the  degree  to  which  success- 
ful counterfeiting  may  be  carried.  The  government 
of  which  we  Americans  are  so  justly  proud  is  so  ab- 
solutely trustworthy,  and  there  is  so  little  successful 
counterfeiting,  that  its  notes  are  equivalent,  and  gen- 
erally preferred,  to  gold. 

Suppose  all  Americans  were  as  honorable  in  every 
respect  as  their  government  is  in  its  financial  dealings, 
what  a  nation  we  should  be  !  Think  of  receiving  the 
words  of  a  stranger  with  the  implicit  confidence  with 
which  we  receive  his  bank-notes  !  Ah,  then  Avords 
would  be  no  longer  cheap. 

Like  the  bank-note,  the  value  of  words  is  purely  re- 
presentative ;  but  unlike  the  bank-note  there  is  no  great 
centre  of  responsibility.  Each  individual  is  his  own 
bank,  and  his  notes  are  good  or  not  according  to  his  in- 
dividual reputation  for  honor  and  veracity.  Let  one  of 
his  notes  go  to  protest  and  there  is  an  immediate  depre- 
ciation of  all  the  rest.  Let  one  after  another  be  unre- 
deemed and  finally  they  are  all  waste  paper. 

As  the  thorough  business  man  has  an  almost  intuitive 
knowledge  of  the  true  value  of  the  commercial  paper 
which  passes  through  his  hands,  so  we  all  instinctively 
estimate  the  value  of  words  by  their  source.  "  Who 
says  so  ?  "  we  ask.  "  If  it  is  A  it  must  be  true,  but  if 
it  is  B,  —  ah  !  that  is  a  very  different  matter." 

One  of  the  things  we  prize  most  in  life  is  our  power 
and  influence  over  our  fellow-men.  We  cannot  all  be 
great  leaders,  but  there  is  one  way  in  which  the  weakest 


110  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

of  us  may  be  strong :  let  it  be  known  that  every  note 
we  issue  is  as  good  as  solid  gold,  that  every  statement 
we  make  is  the  exact  truth,  and  we  shall  exercise  a 
sway  in  comparison  with  which  the  power  of  the  most 
brilliant  liar  is  impotence.  Such  a  reputation  is  a 
priceless  treasure.  As  a  successful  old  merchant  re- 
marked to  me,  it  is  the  most  valuable  capital  with 
which  a  man  can  start  in  business.  Mark,  I  am  not 
speaking  now  of  the  real  character  which  alone  can 
secure  the  reputation,  —  that  is  altogether  above  price  ; 
I  am  speaking  only  of  the  reputation  itself.  All  men, 
whatever  their  own  rejDutation  for  truthfulness,  fully 
appreciate  its  importance  in  others.  With  one  accord 
they  will  prefer  him  Avhose  representations  need  no  dis- 
count, be  he  the  architect  who  is  to  build  their  houses 
or  the  boy  who  is  to  carry  their  messages. 

Jonathan  Tower.  You  said,  "whatever  their  own 
reputation  for  truthfulness."  Why  should  not  men 
appreciate  its  importance  in  themselves  as  well  as  in 
others  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Because  they  do  not  always  recognize  the 
fact  which  I  have  stated,  that  the  real  character  alone 
can  secure  the  reputation,  —  the  lasting  reputation  I 
mean,  of  course.  Everybody  thinks  he  reads  others 
more  clearly  than  they  read  him.  This  is  easily  ac- 
counted for  when  we  consider  that  while  each  one 
knows  not  only  what  he  himself  says,  but  also  what  he 
thinks,  he  knows  only  what  others  say.  If  any  one  of 
you  has  been  in  the  habit  of  thinking  himself  the  one 
mortal  blessed  with  unerring  perception,  insight,  intu- 
ition into  the  character  of  others,  let  him  think  so  no 
longer :  let  him  remember  that  he  is  only  one  of  an  innu- 
merable species,  that  it  is  more  than  probable  that  there 
are  otliers  quite  as  sharp  as  he  is,  —  possibly  sharper. 

Mankind  seems  gullible  enough,  it  is  true  ;  but,  as  in 
almost  all  other  respects,  mankind  is  not  what  it  seems. 
It  is  only  things  that  are  as  they  seem.     Many  rascals 


TRUTH  AND  TRUTHFULNESS.  Ill 

beside  those  of  the  notorious  Tweed  ring  have  found 
this  out  too  late.  Too  hxte  it  has  dawned  upon  them 
that  the  final  crash  was  but  the  inevitable  result  of  the 
slow  undermining  of  the  confidence  of  their  fellow-men, 
who  for  years,  perhaps,  showed  no  outward  sign.  Too 
late  they  find  that  their  boasted  cunning  has  been  like 
that  of  the  ostrich  which,  thrusting  its  stupid  head 
into  the  bushes,  fancies  its  great,  awkward,  ugly  body 
unseen. 

Helen  liar.  It  seems  to  me.  Dr.  Dix,  that  there 
must  be  exceptions.  Is  not  the  community  often  star- 
tled by  the  sudden  revelation  of  wickedness  altogether 
unsuspected  before  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Altogether  unsuspected  by  the  community, 
perhaps,  because  the  community  may  not  have  been  in 
close  enough  relations  with  the  perpetrators  to  be  in 
any  sense  acquainted  with  them.  The  great  majority 
of  people  whom  we  call  our  acquaintances  have  only  a 
bowing  acquaintance  with  us.  I  do  not  claim  that  such 
comparative  strangers  alwaj's  or  often  read  us  aright. 
This  may  form  the  subject' of  another  Talk.  But  I  do 
not  believe  there  was  ever  a  thorough-going  rascal  whose 
true  character  was  not  divined  by  some  of  those  whom 
he  least  feared.  In  many  of  the  cases  to  which  refer- 
ence has  been  made,  the  "  startling  wickedness  "  has 
been  the  result  of  undermined  moral  strength  less  sus- 
pected by  the  criminal  himself  than  by  those  around 
him.  It  has  been  like  the  sudden  giving  way  of  the 
Johnstown  dam,  slowly  but  surely  eaten  away  in  its 
foundations,  which  had  seemed  firmer  and  safer  to  the 
proprietors  than  to  the  keener  eyes  of  less  interested  — 
or,  as  it  proved,  far  more  interested  —  observers. 

It  is  good  for  us  all  to  know  that,  if  we  are  not  al- 
ways justly  estimated  by  others,  we  are  generally  better 
known  by  them  than  we  are  by  ourselves.  It  is  useless 
for  a  confirmed  liar  to  try  to  deceive  his  intimates  ;  and 
if  he  could  know  how  clearly  his  false  heart  is  seen 


112  CRABACTEB  BUILDING. 

even  by  comparative  strangers,  he  would  be  appalled. 
With  all  our  mistaken  reading  of  one  another,  we  err 
least,  I  think,  in  our  estimate  of  one  another's  truth- 
fulness. And  with  what  minuteness  we  form  that  es- 
timate, all  unconsciously  too  !  How  easily  we  could 
arrange  a  table  of  percentages  attached  to  the  names  of 
all  our  acquaintances  in  definite  order,  from  the  one 
hundred  per  cent  of  our  hero  and  our  heroine  down  to 
the  zero  of  the  poor  Avretch  who  will  lie  even  when  the 
truth  would  serve  him  better. 

From  policy,  the  lowest  of  all  motives  to  do  right,  if 
from  no  other,  never  deceive.  There  is  no  surer  way  of 
disarming  yourselves. 


XXII. 
TRUTH  AND   TRUTHFULNESS,  CONTINUED. 

All  that  has  been  said  of  the  well-uigh  irresistible 
power  of  habit  might  be  repeated  with  especial  empha- 
sis in  dealing  with  our  present  subject.  The  Castle  of 
Truth  cannot  be  erected  in  the  soul  without  long  and 
patient  effort.  Its  foundations  must  be  strong  and 
deep-laid ;  its  walls  and  columns  must  be  solid  to  the 
centre  of  each  massive  block.  Then  only  will  it  stand 
firm  and  unshaken  amid  the  storms  of  temptation. 

Julia  Taylor.  Why,  then,  are  little  children  so  often 
made  a  proverb  of  truthfulness  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  In  little  children  the  virtues  are  chiefly 
those  of  negative  innocence.  They  are  like  tender 
flowers  blooming  in  the  virgin  soil  whei-e  a  future  city 
is  to  be  built.  They  are  fragrant  and  beautiful,  indeed : 
but  life  is  more  than  a  garden ;  its  sweetest  flowers 
must  erelong  give  place  to  castles  or  hovels,  temples  or 
dungeons. 

Habit,  habit,  habit.  There  can  scarcely  be  too  much 
iteration  of  the  word.  Habit  determines  almost  infalli- 
bly what  a  man  shall  do  in  any  given  situation ;  it  deter- 
mines with  positive  certainty  what  his  first  unthinking 
impulse  shall  be. 

"  I  spoke  without  thinking,"  says  a  boy  detected  in 
a  falsehood.  "  If  I  had  stopped  to  think  a  moment  I 
should  have  told  the  truth."  Does  he  know  that  he  has 
confessed  not  one  but  a  thousand  falsehoods  ?  If  he 
had  declared  that  he  had  resisted  his  first  good  impulse 
and  had  sinned  deliberately,  it  would  have  been  bad 
enough,  indeed,  but  better,  immeasurably  better  than 


114  CHABACTER  BUILDING. 

it  was.  My  hero  would  have  done  neither  the  one  thing 
nor  the  other.  From  his  brave,  clear  eyes  and  his  ready 
tongue  the  truth  would  have  leaped  forth  instantly,  pure, 
whole,  unsullied. 

There  are  certain  vices  that  men  are  more  or  less 
proud  of.  Xo  one  is  proud  of  falsehood.  The  lowest 
vagrant  will  scowl  and  show  fight  at  being  called  a  liar, 
though  he  may  rarely  open  his  mouth  but  to  lie ;  for  of 
all  the  virtues  of  good  men  there  is  none  he  admires 
more  than  their  truthfulness  ;  there  is  none  that  in  his 
estimation  more  distinctly  marks  the  difference  between 
them  and  himself. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  advantage  which  a  reputation 
for  truthfulness  gives  a  man  among  his  fellows.  Of 
infinitely  greater  value  than  the  mere  reputation  is  the 
reality.  The  instant  one  begins  to  deviate,  though  never 
so  slightly,  from  the  truth,  he  has  given  his  moral  struc- 
ture a  wrench  that  has  loosened  its  very  foundation 
stones.  Whatever  others  may  think  of  him,  he  knows 
that  he  is,  in  some  degree  at  least,  a  sham ;  that  there  is 
a  hollow  place  in  what  may  still  seem  on  the  outside 
solid  and  whole  to  the  centre.  Every  succeeding  lie, 
whether  discovered  or  not,  gives  another  wrench  and 
takes  away  another  stone,  until  at  last  there  is  nothing 
left  but  a  shell.  There  are  sins  that  men  may  commit 
and  still  retain  some  measure  of  self-respect,  but  what 
must  the  habitual  liar  think  of  himself  ?  He  at  least, 
if  no  one  else,  can  look  within  and  behold  the  moral 
void. 

Archibald  Watson.  How,  then,  can  any  man  retain 
his  self-respect  ?     Are  not  all  men  liars  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Compared  with  Absolute  Truth  all  men  are 
liars.  So,  seen  against  the  face  of  the  sun,  a  candle 
fiame  is  a  black  cone.  But  all  men  are  not  habitual  nor 
intentional  liars.  As  a  race,  they  are  earnest  lovers  of 
and  seekers  for  the  truth.  They  long  to  discover  it, 
reveal  it  to  their  fellows,  and  hand  it  down  to  their 


TRUTH  AND   TRUTHFULNESS.  115 

descendants.  What  long  ages  of  patient  toil  they  have 
given  to  this  single  pursuit !  What  expense  or  pains 
too  great  to  purge  from  human  knowledge  its  alloy  of 
error  ?  It  was  easy  to  trace  upon  the  map  the  sup- 
posed sources  of  the  Nile,  but  who  was  satisfied  with 
the  supposed  sources  ?  It  is  a  pleasing  thought  that 
beyond  the  icebergs  and  ice  fields  there  may  be  a  calm, 
clear  sea,  in  which  ships  may  ride  as  safely  as  in  their 
OAvn  harbors.  But  of  what  value  is  the  mere  thought  ? 
It  is  the  truth  men  yearn  for,  and  it  is  this  yearning  that 
has  sent  so  many  to  the  death-chill  of  the  frozen  North. 
And  they  want  the  exact  truth,  not  a  mere  approach  to 
it.  Men  have  for  instance,  known,  for  a  long  time  very 
nearly  the  distance  of  our  earth  from  the  sun,  so  nearly 
that  the  addition  or  subtraction  of  a  small  fraction  of 
a  hair's  breadth  in  instrumental  measurements  would 
probably  give  its  exact  distance.  Every  few  years  an 
opportunity  comes  to  lessen  still  further  this  fraction 
of  error,  when  the  leading  governments  fit  out  expedi- 
tions at  great  expense,  and  scientific  men  leave  their 
homes  and  sail  to  the  antipodes,  if  need  be,  to  take 
full  advantage  of  these  opportunities. 

One  of  our  future  Talks  Avill  be  on  the  moral  effect  of 
purely  secular  study.  What  possible  relation,  for  in- 
stance, can  there  be  between  mathematics  and  virtue  ? 
I  will  anticipate  that  Talk  to  say  that,  Avhatever  its 
other  effects  may  be,  there  can  be  no  question  that 
secular  study  tends  very  powerfully  to  develop  a  love 
for  the  truth,  the  exact  truth,  and  a  contempt  for  error. 
It  is  the  untrained  and  untaught  mind  that  is  satisfied 
with  half-truth  and  half-falsehood.  The  weakness  and 
indolence  of  ignorance  are  responsible  for  more  lies  and 
half-lies  than  all  other  causes  combined.  One  of  the 
richest  fruits  of  intellectual  training  is  accuracy. 

George  Williams.  I  have  sometimes  felt  an  uncom- 
fortable doubt  as  to  whether  accuracy  may  not  be  gained 
at  the  expense  of  breadth  and  vigor. 


116  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

Dr.  Dix.  Such  a  result  is  by  no  means  impossible  ; 
but  a  sensible  man  is  not  likely  to  make  so  foolish  and 
unnecessary  a  blunder.  Wholesome,  properly  conducted 
intellectual  training  not  only  quickens  the  perceptions, 
but  enlarges  their  range.  A  child's  or  a  savage's  pic- 
ture of  a  horse  satisfies  his  own  eye  both  in  detail  and 
in  general  outline :  training  would  reveal  to  him  the 
slovenliness  of  the  one  no  sooner  than  the  gross  dispro- 
portion of  the  other.  The  untrained  taste  and  intellect 
are  satisfied  witli  disproportion  in  outline  and  slovenli- 
ness in  detail  in  everything,  —  pictures,  architecture, 
dress,  stories,  histories,  arguments  ;  that  is  to  say,  they 
are  as  likely  to  be  lacking  in  breadth  and  vigor  as  in 
accuracy.  And  when  to  untrained  taste  and  intellect  is 
added  an  untrained  moral  sense,  which  is  satisfied  with 
what  I  may  call  slovenly  truthfulness,  what  chance  re- 
mains for  either  art  or  truth  ? 

Julia  Taylor.  Dr.  Dix,  I  appreciate  all  that  has  been 
said  of  the  importance  of  truth  and  truthfulness ;  but 
language  has  other  uses  besides  to  impart  knowledge : 
to  amuse,  for  instance ;  to  make  us  laugh ;  to  please 
the  taste  and  fancy,  as  in  the  cases  of  fairy  tales  and 
mythology,  of  which  you  have  approved.  Has  not  fic- 
tion an  important  office  to  perform  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Most  certainly.  I  have  compared  the  use 
of  language  to  communicate  knowledge  to  the  use  of 
the  art  of  engraving  to  produce  bank-notes,  the  repre- 
sentatives of  value ;  but  the  art  of  engraving  has  uses 
besides  that  of  producing  bank-notes.  A  beautiful  pic- 
ture has  an  intrinsic  value  consisting  in  its  beauty ;  but 
an  ugly  scrawl  upon  a  soiled  scrap  of  paper  may  have  a 
representative  value  that  will  purchase  a  thousand  pic- 
tures. So  the  eloquence  of  an  actor  on  the  stage  may 
have  an  intrinsic  value,  consisting  in  its  beauty,  force, 
skilfully  simulated  passion ;  but  an  awkwardly  expressed 
statement  of  fact  from  an  authority  may  have  a  repre- 
sentative value  outweighing  it  a  thousand  times. 


-    TRUTH  AND   TRUTHFULNESS.  117 

A  great  audience  sat  listening  breathlessly  to  the  out- 
pouring of  Othello's  grief  and  remorse  by  the  bedside 
of  his  murdered  wife.  At  the  very  climax  of  the  thrill- 
ing scene,  when  he  was  about  to  plunge  the  dagger  into 
his  own  breast,  a  plain  man,  in  every -day  dress,  stepped 
upon  the  stage  with  a  paper  in  his  hand.  It  was  the 
mayor.  "  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  I  have 
come  to  tell  you  that  Lee  lias  surrendered  !  "  AYhat 
then  was  Othello  ?  what  was  Desdemona  ?  Only  two 
of  a  great  multitude  shouting  in  frantic  joy. 

But  even  the  intrinsic  values  of  which  I  have  spoken 
—  that  of  the  engraving  and  that  of  the  acting  —  are, 
after  all,  dependent  upon  their  truthfulness,  their  fidel- 
ity to  nature  and  reality.  Real  art  is  but  the  embodi- 
ment of  truth.  The  best  fiction  is  truer  than  much  of 
what  professes  to  be  history.  There  is  more  truth  in 
Michael  Angelo's  angels  than  in  most  portraits. 

Louisa  Thompson.     Including  their  wings  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes,  including  their  wings  ;  for  their  wings 
represent  nothing  but  what  may  be  true  of  the  soul, 
even  in  this  life. 

Jonathan  Tower.  And  what  of  the  fairy  tales  and 
mythology  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  They  deceive  no  one,  and  if  written  and 
read  aright  even  they  may  teach  lessons  of  truth  that 
inartistic  stories  of  real  life  utterly  fail  to  teach.  Com- 
pare "  Eip  Van  Winkle  "  with  an  ordinary  newspaper 
account  of  what  "  actually  happened  "  ! 


XXIII. 
EXTRAVAGANCE  IN  LANGUAGE. 

Archibald  Watson.  Dr.  Dix,  notwithstanding  the 
strong  detestation  which  you  have  expressed  for  all  de- 
partures from  the  truth,  I  want  to  ask  if  there  is  not  a 
certain  kind  which  may  be  innocent.  There  is  an  old 
sailor  in  our  neighborhood  whom  everybody  looks  upon 
as  an  amiable  and  perfectly  harmless  fellow,  who  never- 
theless is  acknowledged  to  be  the  greates-t  liar  in  town. 

Dr.  Dix.     Does  he  acknowledge  it  himself  ? 

Archibald  Watson.  No,  indeed,  not  he  !  He  claims 
to  be  veracity  personified.  But  we  have  reckoned  up 
the  shortest  possible  time  in  which  the  personal  adven- 
tures which  he  relates  could  have  taken  place,  and  it 
makes  him  about  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  old. 
\_Laughter.'\ 

Dr.  Dix.  His  assumption  of  veracity  is  probably 
only  intended  to  add  to  the  humor  of  his  "  yarns."  He 
surely  does  not  expect  you  to  believe  them  ? 

Archibald  Watson.  I  only  know  that  he  gets  furious 
if  any  one  hints  a  suspicion  of  his  veracity.  He  always 
gives  the  exact  time  and  place  when  and  where  every- 
thing happened. 

Dr.  Dix.  But  what  does  he  say  to  your  computed  ag- 
gregate of  two  and  a  half  centuries  ?  Even  Coleridge's 
Ancient  Mariner  did  not  claim  to  be  as  ancient  as  that. 

Archibald  Watson.  He  says  he  does  n't  care  about 
our  "  figgerin'."  He  "  reckons  "  he  knows  Avhat  he  saw 
with  his  own  eyes  and  heard  with  his  own  ears.  Now, 
I  want  to  ask  what  possible  harm  his  lies  can  do,  since 
the  youngest  child  knows  better  than  to  believe  them. 


EXTRAVAGANCE  IN  LANGUAGE.  119 

Dr.  Dlx.  He  harms  himself,  if  no  one  else,  in  more 
ways  than  one.  He  probably  has  destroyed,  as  far  as 
possible,  his  own  sense  of  the  difference  between  truth 
and  falsehood.  To  him  Truth  is  as  if  she  were  not. 
He  has  destroyed  the  value  of  his  power  of  speech  ex- 
cept as  a  means  of  idle  amusement.  What  would  his 
testimony  be  worth  in  a  court  of  justice  ?  You  may 
laugh  at  him  and  even  like  him  in  a  way  ;  but  not  even 
the  youngest  child,  who,  you  say,  knows  better  than  to 
believe  him,  can  feel  for  him  any  real  respect.  In 
short,  he  has  destroyed  the  influence  Avhich  he  might 
have  exerted  as  a  man  and  reduced  himself  to  a  mean- 
ingless chatterer. 

No  untruth  told  with  intent  to  deceive  —  which  is 
what  constitutes  a  lie  —  can  be  harmless.  The  destruc- 
tion of  the  castle  of  truth  in  the  soul  is  one  of  the 
direst  calamities  Avhich  can  befall  her.  Do  not,  I  be- 
seech you,  belittle  that  calamity.  Eemember  always 
that  it  is  no  less  than  the  transformation  of  solidity  to 
hollowness,  of  reality  to  sham. 

Archibald  Watson.  At  least  you  will  admit  that  some 
lies  are  infinitely  worse  than  others  ? 

Dr.  Dlx.     "  Infinitely  "  is  a  strong  word. 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.     Infinitely  strong. 

ArchUiald  Watson.  Well,  that's  just  the  word  I  want 
to  describe  some  of  the  lies  that  are  told. 

Dr.  Dlx.  I  am  almost  inclined  to  agree  with  you, 
my  boy.  The  word  has  been  so  badly  abused,  however, 
that  it  is  no  longer  "  infinitely  "  strong.  You  spoke  a 
little  while  ago  of  one  kind  of  departure  from  the  truth 
which  you  thought  might  be  innocent.  There  is  another 
kind  which  you  and  many  others  may  regard  as  inno- 
cent. I  refer  to  the  indiscriminate  use  of  such  words 
as  the  one  in  question.  Is  it  innocent  ?  Let  us  see. 
"  Infinitely  "  meant  originally  absolutely  without  limit. 
When  used  by  those  whose  "  bank-notes  pass  for  their 
full  face  value,"  it  still  means  the  same.     Space  extends 


120  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

infinitely  in  all  directions,  but  one  young  lady's  hair  is 
not  infinitely  longer  than  another's,  as  I  overheard  a 
third  young  lady  declare  the  other  morning.  \_Lau(j]iter^ 
Time  past  and  future  is  infinite  in  duration,  but  Dr. 
Long's  sermons  are  not,  although  I  have  heard  them 
called  so.  Now,  I  do  not  charge  those  who  habitually 
use  extravagant  language  with  any  great  amount  of 
moral  turpitude.  They  probably  mean  no  harm ;  they 
do  not  usu.ally  intend  even  what  some  might  regard  as 
innocent  deception.  When  your  landlady  told  you  this 
morning  that  she  had  just  bought  some  "  perfectly 
splendid  butter,"  she  probably  did  not  intend  you  to 
understand  that  it  emitted  a  dazzling  radiance  from  its 
golden  su.rface ;  she  simply  meant  that  it  was  fresh  and 
sweet,  and  that  was  all  the  meaning  her  words  con- 
veyed to  your  mind.  AVhen  a  young  lady  informs  her 
confidential  friend  that  the  new  French  teacher  is  "  ut- 
terly horrible,"  she  does  not  mean  that  he  wears  horns 
and  is  covered  with  scales,  like  a  dragon  ;  it  is  only  her 
animated  way  of  saying  that  he  is  not  altogether  agree- 
able to  her.  Well,  since  that  is  all  she  means  and  since, 
tiiat  is  all  she  is  understood  to  mean,  where 's  the  harm  ? 
,The  harm  is  exactly  that  that  Is  all  she  is  understood 
to  mean. 

Helen  Saw>/er.  I  think  there  would  be  a  great  deal 
more  harm  if  she  were  understood  to  mean  exactly 
what  she  says. 

Dr.  Dix.  If  she  were  so  understood  she  would  proba- 
bly not  make  use  of  such  language.  She  and  others  like 
her  have  so  corrupted  the  "  coin  of  the  realm  "  that  it 
has  lost,  when  "  uttered  "  by  them  at  least,  the  greater 
part  of  its  value.  They  have  done  what  they  could  to 
destroy  the  ])ower  of  language.  You  often  hear  the  ex- 
pression, "  Words  are  inadequate  to  describe,"  etc.  But 
why  are  the}'  inadequate  ?  If  their  original  power  had 
been  preserved  intact,  there  is  nothing  in  nature  or  art, 
in  action  or  feeling   that  they  would   not   adequately 


EXTRAVAGANCE  IN  LANGUAGE.  121 

represent.  The  most  splendid  sunset  that  eyes  ever 
behekl  was  no  more  than  splendid,  but  since  butter  has 
set  up  an  equal  claim  to  the  epithet  what  remains  to 
describe  the  sunset  ?  The  most  horrible  monsters  that 
ever  existed  in  fact  or  in  fancy  were  no  more  than  hor- 
rible, but  since  unpopular,  but  perhaps  well-meaning  and 
even  respectable-appearing,  instructors  in  French  have 
been  unfortunate  enough  to  fall  into  the  same  category, 
how  can  we  convey  any  adequate  idea  of  those  mon- 
sters ? 

Suppose  one  of  these  luxuriant  speakers  should  at- 
tempt to  describe  some  experience  of  which  his  hearers 
actually  knew  nothing  save  from  his  description ;  sup- 
pose he  had  seen  what  was  in  actual  fact  beautiful  or 
magnificent  or  lovely,  or  frightful  or  horrible  or  utterly 
revolting.  What  could  he  say  ?  The  utmost  resources 
of  his  vocabulary  suffice  to  express  only  the  rather  fine, 
the  passably  attractive,  the  somewhat  disagreeable.  Im- 
agine the  struggles  he  would  make  for  expression,  and 
the  final  desperation  with  which  he  would  say,  "  But 
words  are  utterly  inadequate  to  give  you  the  faintest 
idea  of  it ! " 

Julia  Taylor.  You  said  that  these  poor  abused  words 
formerly  meant  more  than  they  do  now.  Has  n't  human 
nature  always  been  the  same  ?  Don't  you  suppose  peo- 
ple have  always  been  as  prone  to  extravagant  language 
as  they  are  to-day  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Xo,  Miss  Taylor.  I  believe  that  the  ever- 
increasing  stream  of  modern  trashy  fiction  that  is  pour- 
ing from  the  press  has  done  more  and  is  doing  more  to 
devitalize  our  language  than  all  other  causes  combined. 
Its  choicest  words,  that  should  be  kept  sacredly  for  the 
rare  occasions  when  they  are  really  appropriate,  a»re 
spread  thickly  over  every  page.  The  constant  struggle 
of  vulgar  minds  to  elevate  themselves  to  the  ranks  of 
genius  tends  only  to  drag  the  language  of  genius  down 
to  their  own  level.     In   doing  the  work  of  peasants 


122  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

among  peasants  the  kings  and  queens  among  words 
have  lost  their  crowns  and  their  royal  robes,  and  now 
wear  only  fustian.  Hence  the  habitual  reader  of  cheap 
romance  finds  the  works  of  real  genius,  past  or  present, 
tame  and  impotent. 

Isahelle  Anthony.  What  you  have  just  said  solves 
what  has  been  a  mystery  to  me.  I  have  always  won- 
dered in  what  the  superiority  of  the  classics  consists. 
There  is  so  miich  written  to-day  that  seems  to  me  more 
brilliant,  vigorous,  and  vivid  than  anything  of  Virgil's, 
or  Pope's,  or  Dryden's,  that  I  have  really  distrusted  the 
critics,  and  have  suspected  that  the  boasted  superiority 
of  the  classics  is  only  a  tradition. 

Dr.  Dix.  When  next  you  read  Virgil,  Pope,  Dryden, 
Spenser,  Ben  Jonson,  or  Wordsworth,  try  to  forget  the 
decrepitude  into  which  the  words  they  used  are  rapidly 
falling,  and  give  to  them  the  power  they  possessed  when 
they  were  written. 

Florence  Hill.  But  I  suppose  to-day  has  its  geniuses 
as  well  as  the  past.  It  is  not  their  fault  that  language 
has  lost  so  much  of  its  vigor.     What  are  they  to  do  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Your  question  brings  us  back  to  the  author- 
ity of  the  speaker  or  writer.  Do  not  forget  that  as  a 
bank-note  owes  its  value  to  the  bank  that  issues  it,  so 
a  word  owes  its  force  to  the  person  who  utters  it.  A 
speaker  or  a  writer  who  is  observed  to  confine  his  use  of 
words  scrupulously  to  their  true  meaning  will  restore 
to  them,  in  his  own  utterances  at  least,  much  of  their 
original  force :  all  of  which  is  only  another  way  of 
saying  that  the  man  who  always  tells  the  truth  —  as 
the  real  genius  does,  for  genius  is,  after  all,  only  a 
quicker  insight  into  the  true  —  Avill  always  be  believed. 
^Jiilia  Taylor.  That  will  do  very  well  for  geniuses, 
but  common,  every-day  people  cannot  hope  to  do  much 
towards  restoring  to  words  their  original  force.  If  they 
should  try  to  do  so,  I  am  afraid  they  would  only  succeed 
in    making  themselves    seem   more  stupid,  or  perhaps 


EXTRAVAGANCE  IN  LANGUAGE.  123 

rude,  than  ever.  Suppose,  for  instance,  I  should  tell  my 
friend  whom  I  had  been  visiting  that  I  had  enjoyed  a 
considerable  amount  of  pleasure,  and  that  I  hoped  she 
would  return  my  visit  when  it  should  be  mutually  con- 
venient, instead  of  fervently  assuring  her  that  I  had  had 
"  a  most  lovely  time,"  and  that  I  should  be  "  perfectly 
delighted  "  to  have  her  return  ray  visit  as  soon  as  she 
possibly  could  :  I  am  afraid  that,  instead  of  giving  me 
credit  for  truthfulness  and  for  a  desire  to  reform  the 
language,  she  would  simply  wonder  what  had  happened 
to  offend  me  so  grievously. 

Dr.  Dix.  If  you  had  been  in  the  habit  of  gushing,  she 
would  probably  wonder  what  had  so  suddenly  checked 
the  stream.  But  suppose,  during  your  visit,  a  part  of 
your  conversation  had  been  on  the  very  subject  we  are 
now  discussing,  and  you  had  mutually  agreed  to  take 
each  other's  words  at  their  real  value  ;  then  suppose  she 
should  reply  to  you  in  the  reformed  style  which  you 
have  illustrated  (which,  by  the  way,  would  probably 
understate  the  real  feelings  of  you  both),  don't  you 
think  you  would,  already  assured  of  eacli  other's  true 
friendship,  be  fully  satisfied  with  its  ex]jression  ? 

Julia  Tai/lor.  ■  I  am  afraid  not.  I  think  we  should 
both  feel  decidedly  chilled. 

Dr.  D'lx.  Another  illustration  of  the  force  of  habit. 
No  doubt  it  would  be  as  you  say.  It  would  take  you 
a  long  time  to  become  reconciled  to  the  strange  vocabu- 
lary. And  if  society  in  general  is  ever  to  make  this 
much-needed  reform  and  restore  to  words  their  birth- 
right of  power,  it  must  be  a  long,  slow  process.  But 
what  a  grand  triumph  it  would  be  for  truth ! 

There  are  some  honest  souls,  however,  that  would  not 
need  to  change.  My  own  revered  father  is  one  of  these. 
When  he  said,  "That  was  not  right,  my  son,"  it  Avas 
more  to  me  than  the  severest  denunciation  from  others 
would  have  been,  and  his  "  "Well  done  "  was  a  eulogy 
indeed ! 


XXIV. 
SNAKES  IN  THE  GRASS. 

Dr.  Dix.  Last  Wednesday  morning  Watson  asked 
wliether  some  lies  are  not  "  infinitely  "  worse  than  oth- 
ers. His  extravagant  adverb  supplied  in  itself  a  sub- 
ject for  the  greater  part  of  our  Talk  for  that  occasion. 
Now  let  us  try  to  answer  the  question  he  intended  to 
ask.  What  is  one  of  the  worst  kinds  of  lies  than  can  be 
told? 

Chorus.     Slander. 

Dr.  Dix.  Unquestionably.  It  is  fittingly  typified  by 
a  serpent  hiding  in  the  grass.  We  have  been  speaking 
of  liars  who  are  hollow  within,  though  they  may  appear 
fair  and  solid  from  without.  The  slanderer  is  neither 
hollow  within  nor  fair  without,  for  he  is  filled  within 
and  is  reeking  without  with  venom.  The  ruffian  who 
assaults  his  victim  face  to  face  may  at  least  show  a 
certain  degree  of  brute  courage ;  his  victim  may  have 
some  chance  of  defending  himself,  — may  at  least  know 
that  he  is  attacked,  and  who  his  assailant  is ;  but  the 
slanderer  makes  his  cowardly  attack  without  facing 
either  the  physical  or  the  moral  defence  of  his  victim, 
lago  sought  and  enjoyed  the  friendly  confidence  of  the 
fair,  pure,  innocent  being  whose  "  sweet  body "  and 
good  name  he  was  at  once  so  malignantly  plotting  to 
destroy.  Towards  other  enemies  we  may  feel  placidly 
defiant,  but  who  so  strong,  so  brave,  so  well  panoplied, 
that  he  may  defy  this  one  ?  Only  he  whose  virtue  has 
been  tried  and  proved  beyond  a  doubt.  Tliis,  the  mean- 
est and  most  cowardly  of  all  foes,  is  yet  the  only  one 
before  whom  the  best  and  bravest  have  been  made  to 


SNAKES  IN  THE  GRASS.  125 

cower.  Few  have  escaped  his  deadly  fangs,  darting  forth 
from  dark  holes  reeking  with  poisonous  slime.  The  more 
eminent  the  victim,  the  fiercer  and  more  venomous  the 
infernal  bites.  Even  the  immortal  Washington,  whom 
we  look  upon  as  the  type  of  all  that  is  good  and  noble 
in  man,  was  during  his  life  the  favorite  victim  of  cal- 
umny ;  and  once  there  were  no  colors  black  enough  to 
paint  our  sainted  Lincoln  in  the  minds  of  thousands 
of  our  fellow-countrymen. 

Learn  from  this  a  lesson  for  to-day  and  for  coming 
days.  Do  not  believe,  as  rival  political  journals  would 
have  3'ou,  that  there  are  no  really  good,  wise,  or  patri- 
otic men  among  our  nation's  leaders.  There  is  corrup- 
tion enough.  Heaven  knows,  and  fraud  enough  in  public 
places  ;  but  not  all  our  legislators  and  officials  are  knaves 
or  fools. 

But  it  is  not  alone  the  eminent  who  feel  the  stings  of 
calumny.  There  is  scarcely  any  one  in  public  or  in 
private  life  who  has  not  suffered  in  a  greater  or  less 
degree.  Tell  me  now,  what  are  some  of  the  incentives 
to  this  contemptible  crime  ? 

Frederick  Fox.  Envy.  Some  people  cannot  bear  to 
see  others  more  prosperous  or  popular  than  themselves, 
and  so  they  take  this  means  to  bring  them  down  to  their 
own  level  or  below  it. 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes  ;  '  the  serpent  calumny  is  often  the 
spawn  of  that  other  serpent  you  have  named.     Go  on. 

Henry  Phillips.  Revenge.  A  coward  who  does  not 
dare  to  revenge  himself  openly  for  a  real  or  a  fancied 
injury  may  try  what  seems  to  him  a  safer  way. 

Archibald  Watson.  Another  form  of  cowardice,  which 
leads  a  person  to  try  to  escape  punishment  or  censure 
by  fastening  his  own  guilt  upon  another. 

Dr.  Dix.  You  may  well  call  it  another  form  of  cow- 
ardice, and  it  is  hard  to  say  which  form  is  the  more 
contemptible.     Go  on. 

Susan  Perkins.     Prejudice. 


126  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

Charles  Fox.     Uncharitableness. 

Licci/  Snow.     Love  of  gossip. 

Dr.  Dix.  The  last  three  you  have  named,  particularly 
the  third,  may  be  the  least  malignant  of  all  the  motives 
to  bear  false  witness  against  our  neighbor,  but  they 
l^robably  are  responsible  for  by  far  the  greater  aggre- 
gate of  mischief  on  account  of  their  greater  prevalence. 

We  need  not  devote  much  of  our  Talk  to  the  more 
flagrant  sins.  The  greater  part  of  offences  against  the 
civil  law  need  form  the  subject  of  no  long  homilies 
here.  Their  revolting  names  are  comment  enough  of 
themselves.  Mankind  is  a  race  of  sinners,  but  not  of 
criminals.  As  comparatively  few  fall  victims  to  sav- 
age beasts  of  prey,  while  countless  multitudes  die  from 
the  attacks  of  invisible  foes  that  people  the  water  and 
the  air,  so  it  is  not  great  crimes  that  most  people  need 
to  be  warned  against,  but  little  faults  that  grow  unseen, 
perhaps,  and  unsuspected  in  their  minds  and  hearts,  — 
little  faults  which,  however,  if  unrestrained  in  their 
growth,  may  develop  into  crime.  You  .all  know  that  it 
was  never  the  first  act  of  dishonesty  that  consigned  a 
man  to  the  felon's  cell,  nor  the  first  indulgence  in  uncon- 
trolled hatred  that  condemned  him  to  the  scaffold. 

Let  \is  now  return  to  our  specific  subject.  I  have  no 
fear  lest  any  of  us  may  become  an  lago,  but  are  we  always 
guiltless  of  the  sin  of  bearing  false  witness  against  our 
neighbor  ?  If  we  never  cherish  the  fiercer  and  baser 
passions  of  envy  and  revenge,  if  we  never  screen  our- 
selves from  the  righteous  indignation  of  our  fellow-men 
by  sacrificing  to  it  the  reputation  of  our  innocent  neigh- 
bor, are  we  always  free  from  the  prejudice,  uncharitable- 
ness, and  love  of  scandal  which  have  made  havoc  of  so 
many  fair  names  ?  Do  we  never  form  unfavorable  opin- 
ions of  persons  with  whom  we  have  too  little  acquain- 
tance to  justify  any  verdict,  good  or  bad  ?  What  is 
more  to  the  point,  do  we  never  freely  express  those 
opinions  to  others  ?     Are  we  always  inclined  to  put  the 


SNAKES  IN   THE  GRASS.  127 

best  constructions  upon  the  words  and  acts  of  those  who 
are  better  known  to  us  ?  Do  we  never  detect  ourselves 
relating  with  malicious  satisfaction  or  hearing  with 
equal  relish  some  piece  of  petty  scandal  ? 

Let  us  never  forget  that  our  neighbor's  reputation  is 
worth  more  to  him  than  houses  or  lands  or  any  other 
earthly  treasure. 

Eemember  that  there  is  nothing  more  tender  than  a 
good  name.  A  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  a  sidelong  glance, 
a  curl  of  the  lip,  may  wound  it  "  past  all  surgery."  Al- 
ways think  before  you  speak,  but  especially  before  you 
speak  of  your  absent  neighbor,  whose  utter  defenceless- 
ness  in  your  hands  should  appeal  to  your  pity  and  your 
chivalry.  You  knov  not  how  many  times  you  may 
have  thoughtlessly  lowered  him  in  some  one's  esteem 
for  the  mere  sake  of  being  interesting,  spicy,  or  witty. 
Ah,  how  many  hearts  have  been  pierced,  how  many 
fair  fames  have  been  besmirched,  for  the  sake  of  a 
paltry  witticism  !  Would  you  destroy  your  neighbor's 
property  for  sport  ?     Do  not  that  which  is  worse  ! 

Louisa  TJiompson.  I  wonder  how  many  there  are 
among  us  whose  consciences  are  entirely  at  ease  now. 
And  yet,  who  can  avoid  prejudice  ?  It  is  so  natural  to 
judge  strangers  by  some  unpleasing  expression  of  face 
or  peculiarity  of  manner.  One  of  the  ladies  I  love  and 
admire  most  among  my  acquaintances  I  once  thought 
the  proudest,  the  most  selfish  and  unapproachable. 
The  worst  of  it  is  that  I  did  not  hesitate  to  speak  of 
her  as  such  among  my  friends.  I  shall  never  forget 
the  day  when  I  made  her  acquaintance  and  found  how 
completely  I  had  been  deceived.  If  only  I  were  sure 
that  all  I  have  said  of  her  since  had  entirely  undone 
the  mischief,  I  should  be  happy  indeed,  I  bitterly  real- 
ize that  a  word  once  littered  can  never  be  recalled.  I 
say  these  tilings  publicly,  in  the  hope  that  they  may 
help  towards  the  reparation  I  am  so  anxious  to  make  to 
one  of  the  sweetest-souled  women  I  ever  knew. 


128  CHABACTEB  BUILDING. 

Dr.  Dix  [^vith  feeling~\.  You  may  be  assured,  Miss 
Thompson,  there  is  no  one  here  who  thinks  the  less  of 
you  for  the  noble  words  you  have  just  spoken. 

Julia  Taylor.  Dr.  Dix,  I  suppose  you  would  pro- 
nounce pure  love  of  gossip  to  be  the  greatest  of  all  the 
destroyers  of  reputation  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes  ;  because,  though,  as  I  have  said,  it 
may  be  the  least  malignant  in  intention,  it  is  undoubt- 
edly the  most  prevalent.  It  pervades  all  classes,  from 
the  cultivated  readers  of  the  city  society  journal  to  the 
country  sewing  circle  and  the  frequenters  of  the  notori- 
ous corner  grocery. 

Thomas  Dunn.  Pardon  me  if  I  take  exception  to 
your  adjective  "  cultivated." 

Dr.  Dix.  The  word,  as  Artemus  Ward  would  say, 
"was  spoke  sarkastic."  But  there  are  none  who  lay 
claim  to  higher  "  culture  "  than  some  of  those  to  whom 
I  referred.  Of  course  their  claim  is  an  utterly  false 
one.  Personalities  are  the  favorite  food  of  ignorant 
and  empty  minds.  Those  whose  thoughts  rise  to  sci- 
ence, art,  literature,  history,  or  matters  which  pertain 
to  the  well-being  of  their  race,  their  country,  their 
state,  their  city  or  town,  or  even  the  street  on  which 
they  live,  have  no  leisure  for  personal  gossip,  either  of 
town  or  country,  newspaper  or  rural  store. 

One  of  the  subjects  proposed  for  our  Talks  is  the 
relation  between  secular  study  and  morals.  One  point 
has  already  been  made.  Here  we  may  add  another  .- 
One  cannot  very  easily  study  algebra  or  Greek,  and 
blacken  his  neighbor's  character  at  the  same  time. 


XXV. 

GREAT  IS  TRUTH,   AND  IT  WILL  PREVAIL. 

Dr.  Dix.  You  liave  observed  that  in  these  Talks  on 
Truth  and  Truthfulness  I  have  made  use  of  very  plain 
language.  As  the  homely  saying  is,  I  have  called  a 
spade  a  spade,  and  not  an  agricultural  implement. 
The  intentional  uttering  of  an  untruth  with  intent  to 
deceive  I  have  called  a  lie.  I  might  have  used  a  word 
which  would  have  fallen  more  smoothly  upon  your  cars 
and  upon  mine,  —  "  misrepresentation,"  for  instance,  or 
"  equivocation,"  "  prevarication,"  "  coloring,"  or  "  em- 
bellishment." Why  do  these  words  seem  smootlier 
than  the  little  monosyllable  which  is  so  obnoxious  to 
people  in  general,  and  to  the  culprit  himself  in  partic- 
ular ?  Certainly  not  on  account  of  their  articulate 
sound.  In  each  of  these  polysyllables  there  are  harsh 
consonants,  while  the  little  monosyllable  contains  only 
a  liquid  and  a  vowel  sound,  —  the  smoothest  of  all.  It 
is  because  the  little  word  is  so  uncompromising  in  its 
significance.  Italian  to  the  ear,  it  is  blunt  Saxon  to 
the  comprehension.  Like  a  smooth,  round  bullet,  it 
goes  straight  to  the  mark.  Some  people  profess  to  re- 
gard it  as  coarse  :  it  is  not  coarse  ;  it  is  simply  strong 
and  exact.  It  is  unpopular  because  it  represents  an 
ugly  thing  in  its  naked  ugliness.  Ugly  things  must  be 
spoken  of  sometimes :  we  cannot  fight  our  enemies  effi- 
ciently without  facing  them.  There  are  lies  which  are 
rarely  or  never  called  by  their  true  name,  —  lies  of  look 
and  gesture,  even  of  silence  and  total  inaction, 

"  I  did  not  speak  a  word  to  you  that  was  not  strictly 
true,"  pleads  a  clever  culprit  to  the  victim  of  his  cun- 


130  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

ningly  contrived  deception.  But  that  is  only  another 
lie.  The  words  themselves  were  but  breath :  if  their 
import  was  intended  to  be  misleading,  it  matters  not  if 
their  actual  meaning  could  be  sworn  to,  they  told  as 
black  a  lie  as  if  no  mean  and  cowardly  cunning  had 
been  used  in  their  construction.  But  perhaps  no  word 
whatever  was  uttered.  Still,  it  matters  not.  The 
tongue  is  not  the  only  organ  of  speech  we  possess :  the 
eyes  speak,  and  the  hands  ;  the  whole  body  may  be  elo- 
quent with  the  utterance  of  truth  or  falsehood.  If  a 
stranger  asks  me  his  way,  and  I  point  with  my  finger 
in  the  wrong  direction,  have  I  not  lied  to  him  ?  If 
only  the  tongue  can  commit  this  sin,  then  it  is  only 
necessary  for  a  man  to  be  born  deaf  and  dumb  to  be  the 
very  Truth  incarnate. 

George  Williams.  I  think  people  sometimes  tell 
what  is  not  quite  true,  not  from  intentional  dishonesty, 
but  from  mere  carelessness.  They  do  not  think  it 
worth  while  to  take  the  pains  necessary  to  state  the  ex- 
act truth  ;  they  think  that  what  they  say  is  near  enough 
to  the  truth. 

Dr.  Dix.  I  want  to  speak  of  that  notion  of  "  near 
enough  "  and  "  well  enough."  There  is  no  doubt  that 
among  the  proverbs  which  have  been  abused  is  the  one 
that  tells  us  that  "  whatever  is  worth  doing  at  all  is 
worth  doing  well."  If  it  were  always  understood  to 
mean  exactly  what  it  says,  it  would  be  less  likely  to  be 
abused ;  but  there  are  some  persons  who  know  nothing 
of  adjectives  and  adverbs  but  the  superlative  degree. 
Many  things  which  are  worth  doing  well  are  not  worth 
doing  in  the  best  possible  manner.  iSTature,  with  end- 
less time  and  endless  space  at  her  disposal,  can  afford 
to  aim  at  perfection  in  every  minute  detail  of  her  work ; 
but  a  man's  life  is  but  a  span,  and  he  must  select. 
There  is  such  a  thing  as  sacrificing  the  whole  to  its 
most  insignificant  parts.  Chinese  pictures  are  some- 
times exhibited  as  curiosities  (they  certainly  are  not 


GREAT  IS   TRUTH.  131 

works  of  art),  whose  minutest  details  have  been  finished 
with  an  elaboration  appealing  equally  to  our  wonder 
and  our  pity  for  the  patient  toiler,  while  the  general 
effect  may  be  inferior  to  that  of  the  caricature  on  a 
child's  slate. 

Joseph  Cmckl'm.  Some  people  study  Greek  and  Latin 
on  the  Chinese  yn-inciple. 

Dr.  Dix.  That  stupid  blunder  has  had  its  day.  The 
classical  scholar  who  makes  etymology,  syntax,  and 
mechanical  prosody  an  end,  rather  than  a  means  to  the 
more  thorough  understanding  of  classical  literature,  is 
an  anachronism. 

There  is  far  more  danger,  however,  of  abuse  in  the 
other  direction.  Things  that  are  worth  doing  are  much 
more  likely  not  to  be  done  thoroughly  enough  than  too 
thoroughly.  "  Well  enough  "  and  "  near  enough  "  are 
the  greatest  obstacles  to  successful  achievement  that  lie 
in  the  way  of  scholarship  or  any  other  department  of 
human  effort.  They  who  make  these  their  mottoes  are 
the  ones  who  are  surest  to  fail,  and  who  at  best  never 
rise  above  mediocrity. 

We  shall  soon  talk  about  Industry  and  Work.  What 
has  just  been  said  will  then  apply  as  well  as  now  ;  but 
we  have  not  yet  finished  with  the  great  subject  of  Truth. 
Whatever  else  you  may  be  in  danger  of  doing  too  thor- 
oughly, you  can  never  be  too  exact  in  your  adherence 
to  the  truth.  There  is  no  "  well  enough  "  here  but  the 
very  best,  no  "  near  enough  "  but  the  truth  itself. 

If  you  quote  an  author,  do  not  be  satisfied  with  giv- 
ing his  drift,  unless  that  is  all  you  are  pretending  to 
do :  give  his  exact  language.  By  the  change  of  a  single 
word  you  may  unwittingly  spoil  the  force,  beauty,-  and 
symmetry  of  the  passage  you  attempt  to  quote  ;  and 
you  have  no  more  right  to  slander  an  author,  living  or 
dead,  than  any  other  of  your  fellow-men.  A  beautiful 
countenance  seen  through  a  twisted  pane  of  glass  may 
be  distorted  to  an  ugly  caricature.     An  unskilful  por- 


132  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

trait  painter  may  excite  your  indignation  and  disgust 
by  the  misplacement  of  a  single  line.  If  you  misquote 
an  author,  you  are  like  a  twisted  pane  of  glass  or  an 
unskilful  portrait  painter. 

Florence  Hill.  An  author's  works  are  usually  acces- 
sible ;  but  suppose  we  have  occasion  to  quote  a  speaker, 
jDublic  or  private,  what  shall  we  do  ?  We  are  not  all 
gifted  with  the  memory  of  a  Webster  or  a  Macaulay. 

Dr.  Dix.  In  that  case  you  can,  of  course,  make  no 
pretence  of  verbal  quotation.  Your  hearers  understand 
fully  that  you  are  attempting  to  give  only  the  sub- 
stance, and  hold  you  alone  responsible  for  the  language. 
But  this  does  not  exempt  you  from  the  utmost  possible 
care.  This  is  one  of  the  things  you  cannot  do  too  well. 
You  have  no  more  right  to  color  or  distort  the  substance 
of  what  you  have  heard  than  you  have  to  misquote  the 
words  you  have  read. 

Henry  Jones.  Please,  Dr.  Dix,  is  n't  it  sometimes 
right  to  tell  a  lie  ? 

Dr.  Dix  {smiling^  What  do  you  think  yourself, 
Henry  ? 

Henry  Jones.     I  think  it  is. 

Dr.  Dix.     When,  for  instance  ? 

Henry  Jones.  My  Sunday-school  teacher  told  me  that 
it  was  better  to  break  a  bad  promise  than  to  keep  it. 

Dr.  Dix.  Your  teacher  might  have  explained  to  you 
that  breaking  a  bad  promise  and  telling  a  lie  are  two 
entirely  different  things. 

Henry  Jones.  Why,  sir,  if  a  boy  promises  to  help 
another  boy  to  steal,  and  does  n't  keep  his  promise, 
has  n't  he  told  a  lie  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  If,  when  he  made  the  promise,  he  did  not 
intend  to  keep  it,  it  was  certainly  a  lie  ;  but  the  promise 
itself  was  the  lie,  not  the  breaking  of  it. 

Henry  Jones.  Do  you  think  as  my  Sunday-school 
teacher  does  ? 

Dr.  Dix.     Certainly.     I    agree   with   him    perfectly. 


GREAT  IS  TRUTH.  133 

You  cannot  undo  a  past  fault :  the  only  thing  you  can 
do  is  to  repent  of  it,  repair  it  as  far  as  possible,  and  re- 
solve not  to  repeat  it. 

George  Williams.  I  think  I  can  state  cases  in  which 
it  would  be  right  to  tell  a  lie. 

Dr.  Dix.     Possibly.     Let  us  hear  them. 

George  Williams.  In  war,  to  deceive  an  enemy ;  in 
peace,  to  save  life  or  property  from  murderers  or  rob- 
bers. Wovild  n't  a  bank  cashier  be  justified  in  telling 
any  number  of  lies  to  prevent  a  burglar  from  robbing 
hundreds  of  trusting,  innocent  people  ?  What  would 
you  think  of  a  mother  who  should  scruple  to  lie  to  a 
band  of  savages  to  save  herself  and  her  children  from 
their  tomahawks  ? 

Dr.  Dix  [risiufj,  and  speaking  tvith  deliberate  empha- 
sis\.  Scholars,  there  is  lying  which  is  not  lying,  just 
as  there  is  killing  which  is  not  murder.  The  command 
is,  Thou  shalt  not  kill ;  but  when  your  country's  ene- 
mies are  arrayed  in  battle  line  against  her  life,  the 
more  killing  you  do  until  the  hostile  flag  is  struck  and 
the  hostile  arms  are  grounded,  the  braver,  better  hero 
you  are.  May  the  day  speedily  come  when  no  such 
heroism  shall  be  needed !  They  who  feel  —  and  need  to 
feel  —  no  scruples  in  killing  to  save  home  and  country, 
neighbor  and  child,  need  scarcely  hesitate  to  tell  that 
which  is  not  true  in  such  a  cause.  Such  lying  is  not 
lying :  they  who  are  not  entitled  to  their  lives  if  you 
can  take  them  are  surely  not  entitled  to  the  truth 
which  you  can  withhold  from  them.  But  all  this  only 
serves  to  show  the  essential  barbarism  of  war,  which 
seems  to  justify  all  lesser  evils  necessary  to  its  prosecu- 
tion. 

Frederick  Fox.  Last  "Wednesday  you  hinted  at  some 
exceptions  to  the  rule  that  the  lower  animals  and  inani- 
mate things  tell  the  truth.  Are  not  these  exceptions 
somewhat  similar  to  those  we  have  just  been  talking 
about  ? 


134  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

Dr.  Dlx.  I  was  about  to  speak  of  that  very  resem- 
blance. However,  I  should  much  rather  hear  your 
views  on  the  subject. 

Frederick  Fox.  We  have  learned  in  our  study  of 
nature  of  many  curious  instances  of  deception  among 
both  plants  and  animals,  either  for  the  sake  of  defence 
against  enemies  or  for  the  sake  of  more  easily  securing 
their  prey.  If  actions  speak  louder  than  words,  and  if 
a  lie  may  be  told  by  a  look  as  well  as  by  speech,  the 
"  walking-stick  "  is  a  continual  liar.  It  seems  to  be  al- 
ways saying,  "  I  am  not  an  insect,  —  I  am  only  a  dry 
twig  ;  so  you  need  n't  trouble  yourself  to  try  to  eat  me." 
The  leaf-insect  of  Java,  and  the  still  more  wonderful 
leaf-butterfly,  which  when  in  repose  cannot  without 
great  difficulty  be  distinguished  from  a  leaf  of  the  tree 
or  shrub  on  which  it  is  in  the  habit  of  alighting,  are 
greater  liars  still. 

Joseph  Cracldin.  If  iSTature  sets  us  such  examples  of 
deception,  why  need  we  look  upon  it  as  so  very  heinous 
an  often ce,  after  all  ? 

Dr.  Dlx.  They  appear  to  me  to  be  very  much  such 
examples  as  the  mother  would  set,  in  the  case  supposed 
by  Williams.  Self-preservation  is  the  first  law  of  na- 
ture for  the  humblest  insect  and  plant  as  well  as  for 
man.  The  very  fact  that  it  is  shown  in  this  cause,  and 
in  this  cause  alone,  should  teach  us  the  sacredness  both 
of  life  and  of  truth. 

As  I  said  at  the  outset,  if  a  man  were  as  truthful  and 
honest  as  Nature,  he  would  be  a  far  better  and  nobler 
being  than  he  is.  Nature  never  adulterates  her  goods 
nor  offers  lying  samples  of  them.  Her  apples  are  al- 
ways apples,  and  not  base  imitations.  Nor  are  they 
always  placed  at  the  top  of  her  barrel.  There  is  never 
any  cheapening  glucose  in  her  sugar-cane. 

Susan  Perkins.  Dr.  Dix,  you  told  us  last  week  that 
Washington  was  shamefully  slandered  during  his  life. 
However  great  the  effect  may  have  been  at  the  time, 


GREAT  IS  TRUTH.  135 

it  has  all  passed  away.  Does  n't  this  show  that  even 
slander,  wicked  and  mean  as  it  is,  cannot  work  perma- 
nent harm  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Not  only  slander,  but  all  kinds  of  untruth 
are  destined  to  die.  Truth  only  is  immortal.  History 
is  one  long  story  of  the  mighty  conflict  between  truth 
and  falseliood,  in  which  the  victory  is  always  at  last 
on  the  side  of  truth.  Each  succeeding  century  has  wit- 
nessed the  crashing  ruin,  one  after  another,  of  the  great 
strongholds  of  error.  They  are  not  all  down  yet,  but 
they  are  all  doomed. 

Magna  est  Veritas,  et  prcevalehit} 

^  Great  is  truth,  and  it  will  prevaiL 


XXVI. 
HONESTY. 

Dr.  Dix.  We  began  our  consideration  of  the  habits 
which  we  wish  to  cultivate  with  that  of  truthfuhiess. 
Closely  allied  to  it  is  the  habit  of  honesty;  that_j.s, 
jTTstice  in  our  dealings  with  others  as  regards  property. 
In  its  widest  sense  honesty  includes  truthfulness,  but 
I  use  the  word  now  in  the  commonly  restricted  sense 
which  I  have  defined.  I  spoke  of  the  two  virtues  as 
closely  allied.  It  is  often  said,  you  know,  that  he  who 
steals  will  surely  lie. 

Jonathan  Tower.  But  he  who  lies  will  not  surely 
steal. 

Dr.  Dix.  That  depends,  I  suppose,  somewhat  on  what 
kind  of  lies  he  is  in  the  habit  of  telling. 

Archibald  Watson.  The  old  sailor  I  spoke  of  the 
other  day  is  thought  to  be  honest  enough  so  far  as 
money  goes. 

Dr.  Dix.  Very  likely.  As  a  class  I  believe  sailors 
are  not  often  accused  of  avarice,  whatever  their  other 
failings  may  be.  Nevertheless,  I  think  I  should  prefer 
to  trust  my  own  financial  interests  to  one  who  is  honest 
in  the  widest  sense  of  the  term,  in  words  as  well  as  in 
deeds.  I  intend  no  personal  offence  to  your  nautical 
acquaintance,  Watson.  I  am  speaking  only  on  .general 
principles. 

Archibald  Watson.     I  fully  agree  with  you.  Dr.  Dix. 

Dr.  Dix.  Our  national  Declaration  of  Independence 
names  among  man's  inalienable  rights,  life,  liberty,  and 
the  pursuit  of  happiness.  As  proj)erty  of  some  sort 
and  in  some  quantity  is  necessary  to  at  least  two  of 


HONESTY.  137 

these,  the  right  to  it  is  generally  regarded  as  uext  in 
sacredness  to  those  of  life  and  personal  liberty. 

Helen  Sawyer.  The  other  morning  you  said  that  a 
man's  reputation  is  worth  more  to  him  than  houses  or 
lands  or  other  earthly  treasure. 

Dr.  Dlx.  And  a  moment  ago  I  implied  a  different 
order,  in  the  general  estimation.  Perhaps,  as  man  ad- 
vances in  civilization,  there  may  come  about  a  complete 
readjustment  in  the  acknowledged  values  of  things, 
when  even  the  courts  will  inflict  a  severer  penalty  upon 
a  convicted  slanderer  than  upon  a  convicted  thief.  The 
tendency  seems  to  be  in  that  direction.  The  time  was 
when  there  was  no  such  crime  as  libel  recognized  in  law, 
—  no  crime,  in  fact,  except  such  as  was  committed  di- 
rectly against  person  or  property.  The  penalty  for  all 
other  offences  was  left  to  the  sufferer  himself,  who  often 
wiped  them  out  in  the  blood  of  the  offender. 

Isabelle  Anthonij.  That  he  was  allowed  to  do  this 
seems  to  show  that  those  other  offences  were  recognized 
as  crimes,  even  if  the  law  did  not  punish  them. 

Dr.  Dlx.  Not  necessarily,  for  the  most  trivial  insult 
was  often  punished  in  this  way,  though  it  might  excite 
only  the  laughter  of  all  save  the  aggrieved  party  him- 
self. 

Charles  Fox.     You  refer  to  the  duel  ?  t 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes.  That  was  the  only  means  of  redress 
men  once  had  for  all  offences  which  were  too  subtle  in 
their  nature  for  the  clumsy  hands  of  the  law  to  lay  hold 
upon.  If  we  look  back  far  enough  in  history,  we  shall 
find  that  there  was  no  other  redress  even  for  theft.  Be- 
tween that  day  and  this,  when  such  offences  as  libel  and 
the  "alienation  of  affection"  are  punishable  by  law, 
there  is  a  wide  gulf  indeed !  If  the  improvement  goes 
on,  if  the  time  ever  comes  when  all  things  shall  be  esti- 
mated at  their  true  value,  and  those  offences  which  are 
in  reality  the  worst  shall  meet  with  the  severest  penal- 
ties, the  mere  stealing  of  one's  purse  will  stand  lower 


138  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

in  the  list  than  it  stands  to-day.  The  slaying  of  the 
body  is  not  the  only  crime  that  is  worse  than  robbery 
or  libel ;  the  slaying  of  the  soul  is  immeasurably  worse 
than  either.  Is  it  not  a  singular  commentary  on  the 
civil  code  that  the  chief  offence  attributed  to  the  im- 
personation of  all  evil  is  rarely  punishable  by  human 
laws  ?  They  among  men  who  most  closely  resemble 
that  impersonatiou  in  their  wickedness,  they  whose  lives 
are  devoted  to  the  work  of  undermining  virtue  and  purity 
in  the  souls  of  their  fellow-men,  are,  so  far  as  human 
laws  are  concerned,  very  often  totally  unwhipped  of 
justice. 

JosejyJi  CrackUn.  Dr.  Dix,  do  j'ou  believe  there  is 
such  a  being  as  the  devil  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  It  matters  not  whether  I  do  or  not.  Suffice 
it  that  there  is  a  spirit  of  evil  rampant  among  men, 
a  moral  gravitation  which  tends  to  draw  their  souls 
downward,  as  the  earth  draws  their  bodies  downward. 
Against  this  2:)0wer  there  is  an  inward  force  which  tends 
to  hold  them  erect.  And  as  their  bodies  grow  strong 
by  continual  resistance  to  the  downward  pull  of  earth, 
so  may  their  souls  grow  strong  and  erect  by  their  never- 
ending  battle  with  evil. 

In  what  I  said  before  this  digression  do  not  under- 
stand me  to  belittle  the  wickedness  of  theft.  That 
there  are  still  lower  depths  of  wickedness  does  not 
diminish  the  depth  of  this.  Its  guilt  is  so  obvious,  so 
palpable,  that  though,  as  I  said,  it  has  not  always  been 
subject  to  legal  penalty,  there  can  never  have  been  a 
time  when  it  was  not  looked  upon  as  a  heinous  offence. 

Helen  Saivyer.  The  ancient  Spartans  are  said  to  have 
encouraged  and  rewarded  it. 

Dr.  Dix.  The  ancient  Spartans  were  an  exceptional 
people  even  for  the  savage  times  in  which  they  lived. 
They  encouraged  theft,  not  as  a  meritorious  act  in  itself, 
but  as  affording  opportunities  for  the  exercise  of  the 
courage,  skill,  and  address  which  they  prized  so  highly. 


HONESTY.  139 

If  these  virtues  were  lacking,  as  shown  by  failure  in 
the  attempt  or  by  detection,  both  the  attempt  and  the 
lack  of  virtues  were  punished  together. 

From  the  very  hrst  the  undisturbed  possession  of 
property  must  have  been  regarded  by  men  in  general 
as  one  of  their  inalienable  rights.  It  lias  always  been 
indispensable  to  their  comfort,  happiness,  even  life. 
Without  it,  the  most  powerful  incentive  to  industry 
and  the  exercise  of  skill  would  not  exist.  The  rudest 
savage  must  always  have  looked  upon  it  as  the  just 
reward  of  his  labor.  The  bow  and  arrows  he  had  made, 
the  hut  he  had  built  with  his  own  hands,  were,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  his  very  own ;  and  the  attempt  on  the 
part  of  his  fellow-savage  to  deprive  him  of  them,  with- 
out giving  him  a  fair  equivalent,  was,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  to  be  resented  and  punished. 

Julia  Taylor.  But  when  his  chief  required  them, 
even  without  recompense,  I  suppose  he  had  no  thought 
of  resisting. 

Dr.  Dix.  Like  his  civilized  brother  he  was  obliged 
to  yield  to  superior  force ;  but  the  inmost  feelings  of 
his  heart  were,  no  doubt,  very  much  the  same  as  yours 
would  have  been  in  his  place. 

Out-and-out,  naked  theft  or  robbery  is  one  of  those 
gross  crimes  which  I  described  the  other  morning  as 
needing  no  comment.  Its  revolting  name  is  comment 
enough  for  all  in  whose  souls  the  light  of  conscience  is 
not  yet  extinguished.  But  there  are  forms  of  stealing 
and  robbing  which  may  well  be  commented  on  in  a  se- 
ries of  Talks  on  Morality,  because  their  real  nature  is 
not  always  recognized.  Like  some  forms  of  lying  which 
we  have  mentioned,  they  are  disguised  by  euphemisms  : 
they  are  not  naked,  out-and-out  thefts  and  robberies, 
but  "embezzlements,"  *' defalcations,"  "breaches  of 
trust,"  "  sharp  practice,"  "  able  financiering,"  etc.  Mas- 
querading under  these  more  or  less  respectable  aliases, 
they  take  their  places  among  other  business  transac- 


140  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

tions  as  well-dressed  thieves  and  robbers  mingle  among 
honest  men.  But,  in  reality,  two  little  words  name 
them  all,  just  as  one  little  monosyllable  names  all  forms 
of  intentional  deception.  The  man  who  takes  that  which 
does  not  justly  belong  to  him,  either  by  intelligent,  free 
gift  or  fair  exchange,  is  a  thief  or  a  robber,  whether  he 
does  it  with  or  without  the  sanction  of  the  law.  He 
may  call  himself,  and  others  may  call  him,  a  clever  busi- 
ness man,  an  able  financier  ;  he  is  a  thief  or  a  robber  as 
truly  as  if  he  had  literally  as  well  as  virtually  picked 
his  victim's  pocket. 

He7i7'y  FhilUps.  Why  is  it  necessary  to  use  two 
words  ?     Why  is  not  simply  "  thief  "  enough  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Because  there  is  an  important  moral  as 
well  as  legal  distinction  between  the  two  words.  Theft 
is  properly  defined  as  the  wrongful  appropriation  of 
property  without  the  owner's  knowledge  or  consent, 
while  robbery  is  the  wrongful  appropriation  of  it  with 
his  knowledge  and  with  or  without  his  consent,  which 
may  be  wrongfully  gained,  as,  for  instance,  by  threats 
or  violence.  There  are  numerous  legal  subdivisions  of 
each  of  these  crimes,  but  the  moral  law  is  but  little 
concerned  with  them.  In  its  view  all  who  take  that 
which  does  not  rightfully  belong  to  them  are  either 
thieves  or  robbers,  whether  they  do  so  with  or  without 
the  sanction  of  the  civil  law. 

Isahelle  Anthony.  Why  does  the  civil  law  ever  sanc- 
tion the  wrongfu.1  appropriation  of  property  ? 

Susan  Perkins.  Wliy,  indeed,  does  it  sanction  any 
act  that  the  moral  law  condemns  ? 

Dr.  DLr.  That  is  too  broad  a  subject  to  enter  upon 
to-day.     We  will  try  to  answer  you  next  time. 


HONESTY,  CONTINUED. 

Dr.  Dix.  ""VVhy  does  the  civil  law  ever  sanction  the 
Avi'ongful  appropriation  of  property  ?  Why,  indeed, 
does  it  sanction  any  act  that  the  moral  law  condemns  ?  " 

One  reason  is  that  its  province  is  necessarily  so  largely 
confined  to  what  is  external,  material,  and  tangible. 
What  a  man  does  with  his  body  may  be  known  to  all ; 
what  he  does  with  his  mind  is  known  fully  only  to  him- 
self. Every  offence  of  the  one  may,  therefore,  meet 
witli  full  recompense  at  the  hands  of  the  law,  while 
the  deepest  wickedness  of  the  other  may  be  unrecog- 
nized and  unpunished,  save  by  that  moral  retribution 
which  awaits  both  open  and  secret  sins  with  equal  cer- 
tainty. 

So  wliat  a  man  involuntarily  suffers  in  his  body 
through  the  means  of  another  may  be  known  to  all  and 
the  offender  may  be  duly  punished ;  what  he  suffers  in 
his  mind  and  character  through  the  baleful  influence  of 
an  evil  companion  may  be  known  scarcely  to  himself. 
This  deepest  of  all  wrongs  is  the  one  which  most  com- 
pletely evades  the  civil  law. 

But  though  the  civil  law  may  permit  the  ruin  of  my 
soul  with  impunity,  why,  you  ask,  need  it  permit  the 
theft  or  robbery  of  my  purse,  a  purely  physical  matter  ? 

Because,  though  my  purse  is  a  purely  physical  mat- 
ter, the  act  by  which  it  is  wrongfully  taken  from  me 
may  not  be ;  it  may  be,  in  fact,  as  purely  psychical  as 
the  act  by  which  my  virtue  is  taken  from  me. 

If  a  man  puts  his  hand  into  my  pocket  and  takes  my 
purse  without  my  knowledge,  he  is  a  thief,  whom  the 


142  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

law  may  severely  punish  ;  if  he  snatches  it  from  my 
hand,  or  takes  me  by  the  throat  and  rifles  it  from  my 
pocket,  he  is  a  robber,  and  may  be  punished  with  still 
greater  severity ;  if  he  persuades  me  to  part  with  it  by 
promise  of  a  material  equivalent,  and  does  not  make 
good  his  promise  according  to  specifications,  he  has  ob- 
tained it  "under  false  pretences,"  and  may  be  dealt 
with,  but  not  so  severely  as  the  technical  thief  or  rob- 
ber ;  if  he  persuades  me  to  part  with  it  by  offering  or 
promising  that  Avhich  he  knows  to  be  valueless,  or  of 
less  value  tlian  the  price  I  pay,  he  is  a  swindler,  and 
may  or  may  not  be  punished,  according  to  circum- 
stances. 

But  there  are  plenty  of  ways  in  which  he  may  wrong- 
fully take  it  from  me  with  absolute  impunity,  so  far  as 
human  laws  are  concerned.  He  may  do  it  without  my 
knowledge,  as  by  charging  unreasonable  profits  ;  or  with 
my  consent  obtained  through  my  folly,  ignorance,  or 
weakness  (which  is  morally  the  same  as  no  consent),  as 
by  selling  me  some  worthless  or  worse  than  worthless 
nostrum,  or  by  inducing  me  to  invest  in  some  enterprise 
which  he  knows  to  be  hopeless.  In  either  case  he  is  as 
truly  a  thief  as  the  poor,  unskilled  wretch  who  knows 
not  how  to  steal  according  to  statute.  Again,  he  may 
do  it  with  my  full  knowledge  and  in  contemptuous  defi- 
ance of  my  indignation  and  powerless  attempts  at  self- 
protection,  as  many  a  millionaire,  trust  company,  or 
other  monopoly  has  done  and  is  doing  to-day.  How 
does  he  or  they  differ  in  reality  from  the  strong,  bold, 
insolent  robber  who  seizes  his  victim  by  the  throat  and 
rifles  his  pocket? 

Joseph  Cracklin.  Are  millionaires,  trust  companies, 
and  monopolies  always  robbers  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Your  question  is  not  a  call  for  information, 
but  an  implication  against  my  fairness  and  candor.  You 
know  very  well  that  they  are  not  always  robbers,  that 
some  of  the  noblest  men  the  world  has  ever  seen  have 


HONESTY.  143 

been  men  of  great  wealth  honestly  obtained.  You  know, 
furthermore,  that  combinations  of  men  for  greater  effi- 
ciency in  business  do  not  necessarily  involve  dishonesty 
in  dealing,  that  such  combinations  may  be,  and  often 
are,  of  the  greatest  benefit  not  only  to  the  individuals 
composing  them  but  to  the  general  public  also. 

Thomas  Dunn.  It  is  true,  however,  is  it  not,  that 
such  combinations,  especially  when  they  amount  to  mo- 
nopolies, offer  very  strong  temptations  to  dishonesty  ? 

Dr.  Dlx.  Great  power  is  always  a  great  temptation, 
whether  it  be  physical,  moral,  political,  or  financial.  But 
virtue  may  be  strong  enough  to  withstand  even  that 
temptation.  Of  actual  monopolies,  as  they  are  frequently 
secured  and  managed,  I  liave  no  defence  to  make.  Too 
often  their  prime  object  is  fraud.  Secured  by  the  ruth- 
less crowding-out  of  weaker  rivals,  one  by  one  at  first, 
and  finally  by  hundreds  or  by  thousands  at  a  time,  and 
when  secured  carried  on  by  the  wholesale  legalized 
plundering  of  society,  —  what  name  can  be  properly 
applied  to  them  but  that  of  gigantic  robbers  ? 

If,  however,  men  were  as  mighty  in  virtue  as  they 
are  in  intellect,  even  monopolies  might  be  as  powerful 
agents  for  good  as  they  are  for  evil. 

Henry  FhilUps.     How  would  that  be  possible  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  There  is  nothing  necessarily  dishonest  or 
cruel  in  organization.  On  the  contrary,  when  its  pur- 
poses are  right  and  just  it  is  most  beneficent  in  its 
effects.  If  all  the  charitable  people,  for  example,  in 
our  State  should  unite  into  one  body  and  carry  out 
their  schemes  of  benevolence  under  one  well-managed 
system,  their  power  for  good  would  be  immensely  in- 
creased. That  would  be  nothing  more  or  less  than  a 
monopoly  of  practical  beneficence.  So  if  all  the  com- 
petent workers  at  the  various  guilds  should  be  allowed 
by  their  stronger  representatives  respectively  to  organ- 
ize for  the  more  efficient  and  economical  carrying  on 
of  their  business,  there  might  be  a  grand    system   of 


144  "  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

monopolies  that  would  be  of  incalculable  benefit  both 
to  the  workers  themselves  and  to  society  in  general. 

TJiomas  Dunn.  Always  supposing  the  controlling 
powers  were  honest  and  public-spirited.  I  suppose  the 
civil  codes  of  an  age  aft'ord  us  a  pretty  fair  means  of 
judging  of  the  average  standard  of  morality  of  that  age. 

Dr.  Dix.  It  is  often  said  that  the  rulers  elected  by 
a  people  fairly  represent  their  average  morality.  As 
to  the  laws  which  those  rulers  enact,  they  more  gener- 
ally represent  the  average  standard  aimed  at  as  attain- 
able than  that  actually  attained.  How  far  short  of  the 
standard  of  the  moral  law  that  is,  we  have  already  illus- 
trated to  some  extent.  And  yet  the  conduct  of  many 
so-called  respectable  men  shows  plainly  that  the  civil 
law  is  their  highest  standard.  In  all  their  dealings 
their  aim  seems  to  be  to  keep  just  within  its  require- 
ments. So  long  as  they  do  this  they  defiantly  challenge 
criticism  of  their  conduct,  though  they  may  rob  the 
widow  and  the  fatherless  with  relentless  cruelty. 

Julia  Taylor.  However  great  future  improvements 
may  be,  I  don't  see  how  it  can  ever  be  possible  for  the 
two  standards  to  be  the  same. 

Dr.  Dix.  If  the  day  ever  comes  when  they  are  the 
same,  it  will  certainly  not  be  by  the  enforcement  of 
such  civil  penalties  as  are  now  in  vogue.  When  the 
civil  law  requires,  as  the  moral  law  has  always  re- 
quired, that  the  rich  shall  not  grind  the  faces  of  the 
poor  in  any  way  whatsoever,  that  the  intelligent  and 
the  educated  shall  not  use  their  intelligence  and  educa- 
tion to  oppress  the  ignorant  and  the  simple,  it  will  be 
obeyed  not  through  dread  of  fines  or  imprisonments, 
but  through  the  fear  of  overwhelming  public  obloquy, 
—  a  far  more  terrible  penalty  to  many  persons  than 
either  fine  or  imprisonment. 

Susan  Perkins.  If  the  time  you  speak  of  ever  comes, 
there  will  be  no  need  of  the  civil  law ;  the  moral  law 
will  be  all-sufficient. 


HONESTY.  145 

Dr.  Dlx.  Kot  quite  all-sufficient,  IVIiss  Perkins.  The 
prevention  of  crime  is  not  the  only  function  of  the  civil 
law.  The  simplest  form  of  society  —  even  of  those 
whose  intentions  were  morally  unexceptionable  —  could 
scarcely  hold  together  without  laws  governing  their  in- 
tercourse ill  many  ways  upon  which  the  moral  law  has 
no  bearing.  Such  laws  are  the  only  ones  in  which  mul- 
titudes to-day  are  personally  interested  so  far  as  theii 
own  conduct  is  concerned.  Did  you  ever  think  how 
small  a  proportion  of  the  crowds  that  walk  the  streets 
of  a  city  have  any  personal  relations  with  the  blue- 
coated  guardians  of  its  peace,  —  ever  notice,  in  fact, 
whether  they  are  on  their  beats  or  not  ? 

Helen  Mar.  I  was  struck  by  your  mention  of  the 
abuse  of  intellectual  as  well  as  physical  power.  A 
strong-armed  ruffian  that  overpowers  his  victim  and 
robs  him  of  his  purse  is  looked  upon  and  punished  as 
one  of  the  worst  of  criminals,  but  the  strong-brained 
ruffian  that  overpowers  his  victims  by  the  thousands, 
perhaps,  and  robs  them  of  purse,  house,  and  land  to- 
gether by  his  superior  intellectual  power  is  looked  upon, 
as  you  have  said,  only  as  a  great  financier.  I  do  not 
see  why  one  is  not  in  reality  a  criminal  as  Avell  as  the 
other,  and  as  much  greater  a  criminal  as  his  robbery  is 
greater. 

Dr.  Dix.  So  the  moral  law  regards  him  j  so  in  fact 
he  is. 


XXVIII. 
A  BLACK  LIST. 

Dr.  Dix.  You  may  mention  this  morning  some  of 
the  common  ways  in  which  the  law  of  honesty  as  re- 
spects the  right  of  proi^erty  is  violated. 

Archibald  Watson.  Shall  we  include  those  we  have 
already  talked  about  ? 

Dr.  Dix.     Yes. 

Archibald  Watson.  Well,  then,  there  is  plain  out-and- 
out  stealing,  such  as  is  recognized  and  punished  by  the 
law, 

James  Murphy.     And  robbery. 

Frank  Williams.  And  obtaining  goods  under  false 
pretences. 

Henry  Jones.     Forgery. 

L^lcy  Snow.     Counterfeiting. 

Charles  Fox.     Overcharging  for  goods  or  services. 

Jonathan  Tower.     Failing  in  business. 

Jane  Sim^ison.  Is  it  necessarily  dishonest  to  fail  in 
business  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  No  more  than  in  any  other  department  of 
human  effort,  —  no  more  than  it  is  dishonest  to  fail  in 
art,  or  authorship,  or  oratory. 

Jonathan  Tower.  But  does  n't  a  man  who  pays  only 
twenty-five  cents  to  a  man  to  whom  he  owes  a  dollar 
cheat  him  out  of  seventy-five  cents  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Whether  you  can  properly  call  it  cheating 
or  not  depends  entirely  on  the  circumstances.  Men  in 
the  business  world  sustain  a  very  close  relation  to  one 
another:  the  misfortune,  folly,  inefficiency,  or  guilt  of 
one  necessarily  involves  others  in  difficulties  for  which 


A  BLACK  LIST.  147 

they  are  in  no  wise  responsible  ;  unforeseen  changes  in 
demand  and  supply  often  reduce  one  to  ruin  while  they 
may  raise  another  to  attiuence,  through  no  fault  of  the 
one  or  merit  of  the  other.  It  is  for  the  general  interest 
of  all  that  failures  from  such  causes  should  not  be  ir- 
retrievable, —  that  the  unfortunate  should  be  allowed  a 
fair  chance  to  go  on  in  their  business  or  to  begin  anew. 
By  just  provisions  of  the  law  and  by  general  consent 
they  are  allowed  to  do  so. 

Jonathan  Tower.  When  I  said  "failing  in  business," 
I  should  have  added  "  to  make  money." 

Dr.  Dlx.  Ah,  that  is  a  very  different  matter.  No 
one  will  dispute  the  dishonesty  nor  the  meanness  par- 
ticularly contemptible  of  that  kind  of  "  failing."  Well, 
scholars,  you  may  go  on  with  your  black  list. 

Henry  Fh'ilUps.     Usury. 

Jane  Simpson.     AVhat  is  usury  ? 

Br.  Dix.     Phillips  ? 

Henry  PlulUps.  Charging  more  than  the  legal  rate 
for  the  use  of  money. 

Jane  Sbnjjson.  I  should  n't  think  you  could  call  that 
dishonest.  You  needn't  borrow  money  if  you  don't 
want  to  pay  what  the  lender  asks  for  it. 

Henry  PhUUps.  The  trouble  is,  you  may  be  obliged 
to  borrow,  whether  you  want  to  or  not. 

Jayie  Simpson.     Then  go  to  some  one  else. 

Dr.  Dix.  In  ether  words,  if  you  don't  want  to  be 
robbed,  go  to  some  one  who  will  not  rob  you.  That  is 
rather  a  poor  plea  for  the  robber,  is  it  not  ?  So  the 
murderer  might  say  of  his  victim,  "  If  he  did  n't  want 
to  be  killed,  he  should  n't  have  come  to  me ;  he  should 
have  gone  to  some  one  who  would  not  have  killed 
him." 

Henry  Fhillips.  Besides,  there  might  have  been  no 
one  else  who  would  be  willing  to  lend. 

Ja7ie  Simpson.     But  is  n't  usury  ever  right  ? 

Dr.  Dix.    Yes,  there  are  circumstances  when  it  might 


148  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

be  justified.  Suppose,  for  instance,  a  man  should  ask  a 
loan  of  a  person  who  would  rather  keep  his  money  for 
other  purposes  than  lend  it  at  the  legal  rate,  but  who 
could  afford  to  accept  a  higher  rate.  There  w^ould  be 
nothing  morally  wrong  in  a  mutual  agreement  satisfac- 
tory to  both,  unless,  indeed,  the  borrower  were  of  that 
improvident  class  who  are  always  trying  to  borrow  at 
ruinous  rates,  and  who  need  to  be  protected  from  their 
own  recklessness. 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.  Are  there  not  some  people  who 
hold  that  all  interest  is  wrong  ? 

D)'.  Dix.  It  is  difficult  to  understand  the  basis  of 
their  objection.  It  is,  of  course,  more  advantageous  to 
me  to  have  my  money  in  my  own  possession  than  in  that 
of  another :  if  I  submit  to  disadvantage  for  the  benefit 
of  anotlier,  it  seems  no  more  than  equitable  that  I  should 
be  compensated.  However,  this  may  be  one  of  the  con- 
troverted topics  that  are  ruled  out  of  our  discussions. 
Go  on. 

Helen  liar.  One  of  the  worst  and  most  cruel  forms 
of  dishonesty  is  taking  advantage  of  the  necessities  of 
the  poor  to  buy  their  goods  or  labor  for  less  than  their 
value. 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes  :  this  is  w^hat  we  mean  when  we  speak 
of  "  grinding  the  faces  of  the  poor." 

Ah,  when  will  the  day  come  when  the  heart  of  Mercy 
"will  no  longer  be  wrung  by  the  sight  of  man's  inhu- 
manity to  man  !  The  poor  woman  in  Hood's  "  Song 
of  the  Shirt "  may  speak  for  all  her  suffering  kindred. 
Miss  Mar,  will  you  repeat  the  poem  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  But  sometimes  it  is  the  poor  man  who 
■wrongs  the  rich  man.  He  says  to  himself,  "  A  few  pen- 
nies or  a  few  dollars  are  nothing  to  him  ;  but  they  are 
bread  to  me."  So  he  feels  no  compunction.  He  wrongs 
his  rich  neighbor,  but  he  Avrongs  himself  still  more. 
What  is  bread  to  his  body  is  poison  to  his  soul. 


A  BLACK  LIST.  149 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.  Should  he  starve  to  death  rather 
than  steal  ? 

Dr.  D'lx.  Happily  that  is  an  alternative  to  which 
few  are  forced  in  this  age,  at  least  in  this  country. 
Charity,  public  or  private,  will  generally  come  to  his 
aid  long  before  that  extremity  is  reached. 

Susan  Perkins.  Not  always.  A  few  days  ago  I  read 
of  a  whole  family  dying  from  starvation  in  the  very 
heart  of  New  York  city. 

Dr.  Dix.  I  read  the  same  account.  Before  they 
would  call  for  help  they  were  all  too  far  gone  to  make 
their  condition  known,  and  it  was  not  discovered  till  too 
late.  Terrible  as  was  their  fate,  therefore,  they  were 
themselves  chiefly  responsible  for  it,  —  not,  of  course, 
for  the  state  of  society  that  makes  such  extreme  pov- 
erty possible.  Society  itself  is  responsible  for  that, 
and  a  fearful  responsibility  it  is.  Who  knows  what  a 
fearful  reckoning  may  come  some  day  ! 

Florence  Hill.  That  family  might  never  have  been 
able  to  make  their  condition  known.  Perhaps  they 
would  not  have  been  believed  if  they  had  tried. 

Dr.  Dix.     Yes  ;  all  that  is  possible. 

Lucy  Snov:.  If  it  was  so,  it  was  no  better  than  mur- 
der. 

Isabelle  Anthony.  It  was  no  better  than  murder  as  it 
was. 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.  Dr.  Dix,  would  you  have  blamed 
those  poor  people  if  they  had  stolen  to  save  themselves 
from  starvation  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  It  would  be  a  hard  heart,  even  if  a  just 
judgment  (which  I  do  not  say  it  would  be),  that  would 
do  so.  Yet  if  they  had  had  the  energy  to  steal  they 
would  have  had  the  energy  to  beg. 

Ja  ne  Simjtson.  Some  poor  people  would  rather  starve 
to  death  than  either  beg  or  steal. 

Dr.  Dix.  But  they  have  no  right  to  starve  to  death 
if  they  can  prevent  it.     Begging  is  humiliating,  but  not 


150  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

wrong  if  unavoidable.  Suicide,  whether  by  starvation 
or  any  other  means,  is  an  immeasurably  greater  crime 
even  than  theft. 

Geoffveij  Jenkins.  So,  if  one  must  either  starve  or 
steal,  it  would  be  right  for  him  to  steal  ? 

Dr.  Dlx.  My  best  answer  is  to  say  that  the  English 
judge  who  not  only  acquitted  the  poor,  starving  woman 
who  snatched  a  loaf  of  bread  from  a  baker's  stand,  but 
took  up  a  subscription  in  her  behalf,  did  precisely  as 
any  other  man  with  a  heart  in  his  bosom  would  have 
done  in  his  place. 

But,  as  I  said,  there  is  little  probability  that  any  of 
you  will  ever  be  forced  to  choose  between  these  terrible 
alternatives.  Let  us  return  to  our  list.  The  wealthy 
employer  is  not  always  the  defrauder ;  sometimes  it  is 
the  poor  laborer.     How  ? 

Jonathcni  Tower.     By  joining  in  a  "  strike." 

Dr.  Dix.  Ah,  that  is  one  of  the  controverted  sub- 
jects that  we  must  not  discuss  here. 

Jonathan  Tower.  I  beg  your  pardon.  By  wasting 
time  when  working  "  by  the  day." 

Joseph  Cracklin.  By  slighting  his  work  when  work- 
ing "  by  the  job." 

Henry  FhilUps.  By  doing  more  than  he  knows  is 
required  or  desired  when  the  opportunity  is  given,  for 
the  sake  of  getting  more  pay. 

Dr.  Dix.     Please  illustrate. 

Henry  Phillips.  Why,  for  instance,  a  mechanic 
sometimes  puts  very  fine  work  into  an  article  that  he 
knows  is  to  be  used  only  for  common  purposes. 

Isahelle  Anthony.  And  a  doctor  sometimes  continues 
to  make  his  calls  upon  a  patient  when  he  knows  that 
his  services  are  no  longer  needed. 

Dr.  Dix  [laughing'].  I  suppose  the  physician  him- 
self must  be  allowed  to  be  the  best  judge  of  that.  Go 
on  with  your  black  list. 

Julia  Taylor.    Borrowing  without  intending  to  repay, 


A  BLACK  LIST.  151 

or  without  being  reasonably  sure  of  being  able  to  repay, 
or  carelessly  neglecting  to  repay. 

Ltici/  Snoiv.  Returning  borrowed  articles  in  a  worse 
condition  than  when  borrowed. 

Jonathan  Tower.  Borrowing  goods  and  returning 
them  when  the  market  price  has  fallen. 

Thomas  Dunn.  Borrowing  money  when  prices  are 
low  and  returning  it  when  they  are  high. 

Dr.  Dix.  That 's  rather  a  subtle  point  for  this  place, 
is  n't  it,  Dunn  ? 

Thomas  Dunn.  I  don't  think  it  need  be  ;  it  is  about 
the  same  thing  Tower  said. 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes,  that  is  true,  goods  being  the  price  of 
money.     Go  on. 

Frederick  Fox.     Coining  silver. 

Dr.  Dix.  That  topic  I  rule  out  altogether.  Try  once 
more. 

Frederick  Fox.     Making  '■'■  corners  in  the  market." 

Dr.  Dix.  I  think  I  will  allow  that.  You  may  ex- 
plain. 

Frederick  Fox.  The  usual  way  is  for  capitalists  to 
buy  up  all  they  can  get  of  some  article  for  which  there 
is,  or  may  be,  a  demand,  store  it  away,  and  thus  pro- 
duce an  artificial  scarcity.  This  brings  the  article  up 
to  an  unnatural  price.  Articles  of  absolute  necessity, 
such  as  wheat  or  other  grains,  are  most  often  chosen 
for  this  purpose,  because  the  profits  are  surer :  men 
must  have  bread  whatever  its  prices  may  be.  It  is,  in 
my  opinion,  the  most  gigantic  and  villainous  kind  of 
robbery  that  can  be  committed,  because  by  it  everybody 
is  robbed. 

Dr.  Dix.  Your  language  is  strong ;  but  perhaps  none 
too  much  so.     Proceed. 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.  Giving  false  returns  of  your  prop- 
erty to  escape  taxes. 

Archibald  Watson.  Moving  out  of  town  just  in  sea- 
son to  escape  taxes. 


152  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

Charles  Fox.  Not  paying  a  debt  until  long  after  it 
is  due,  when  you  know  that  no  interest  will  be  asked 
for. 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes ;  great  cruelty  is  often  inflicted  in  this 
way  upon  poor  people  who  are  dependent  on  prompt 
payments. 

Isahelle  Anthony.  Being  less  careful  of  a  hired  horse 
or  house  than  you  would  be  of  your  own. 

Florence  Hill.  Putting  the  best  fruit  on  the  top  of 
the  barrel. 

Susan  Perkins.  Selling  water  for  milk,  sand  for  su- 
gar, and  slate  for  coal. 

Jane  Simpson.  Men  do  worse  than  that ;  if  they 
did  n't  put  poison  in  our  food,  we  could,  perhaps,  tolerate 
their  water,  sand,  and  slate, 

Jul'm  Taylor.  Not  paying  your  fare  on  the  cars  if 
the  conductor  forgets  to  collect  it. 

Helen  Mar.  Wantonly  injuring  private  or  public 
property,  as,  for  instance,  whittling  fences,  marking  on 
walls,  books,  etc.  I  heard  a  story  once  of  a  man  who 
whittled  the  counter  in  a  store.  The  proprietor  came 
behind  him  and  snipped  off  a  piece  from  his  coat. 
"  What  did  you  do  that  for  ?  "  asked  the  whittler  in 
great  indignation.  ''  This  piece  of  cloth  will  just  pay 
for  that  chip  of  wood,"  replied  the  proprietor. 

Sally  Jones.     They  were  both  thieves,  were  n't  they  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes,  they  were  both  thieves ;  but  the  petty 
vandal  richly  deserved  his  loss.     Go  on. 

Frank  Williams.  Not  trying  to  find  the  owner  of 
anything  you  have  found. 

George  Williams.  Putting  a  few  cents'  worth  of 
sarsaparilla  and  iodide  of  potassium  into  a  bottle  and 
selling  it  for  a  dollar. 

Henry  Fhillips.     Gambling. 

Joseph  Cracklin.  I  know  that  gambling  is  wrong; 
but  I  don't  see  how  you.  can  call  it  actual  dishonesty. 

Henry  Fhillips.     If  a  man  takes  another  man's  prop- 


A  BLACK  LIST.  153 

erty  without  giving  him  an  equivalent,  what  else  can 
it  be? 

Joseph  CrackUn.  But  he  does  that  whenever  he 
accepts  a  gift. 

Henry  Plt'dUps.     AYinnings  are  not  gifts. 

Dr.  D'lx.  They  are  not  looked  upon  as  such  by  either 
the  loser  or  the  winner.  Until  they  are  paid  they  are 
regarded  as  debts  as  truly  as  if  they  were  so  much  bor- 
rowed money. 

Henry  Fhilllps.  They  are  considered  even  more  sa- 
cred: they  are  called  "  debts  of  honor.^'' 

Joseph  CrackUn.  But  there  is  a  sort  of  equivalent 
given. 

Br.  Dix.     What  is  it  ? 

Joseph  CrackUn.  An  equal  chance  to  win  the  other 
man's  money. 

Henry  PhilUps.  An  equal  chance  to  rob  the  other 
man  of  his  money,  that  is.  That  does  not  prevent  it 
from  being  robbery,  any  more  than  the  equal  chance  on 
both  sides  to  take  life  prevents  duelling  from  being 
murder. 


XXIX. 
HONOR. 

Dr.  Dix.  My  good  boy  —  my  hero  sa7is  peur  et  sans 
reproche  —  is  the  "  soul  of  honor."  What  does  that 
mean  ?  It  means  that  he  is  honest,  not  because  "  hon- 
esty is  the  best  polic}^,"  but  because  it  never  occurs  to 
him  to  be  dishonest.  If  dishonesty  were  the  best  pol- 
icy, as  some  shrewd  men  seem  to  believe,  if  Ave  may 
judge  by  their  conduct,  he  wou.ld  still  be  honest.  It 
means  that  he  is  truthful,  not  because  he  is  afraid  of 
the  penalty  that  might  follow  if  he  were  detected  in  a 
lie,  but  because  he  loathes  a  lie  with  his  whole  soul : 
the  very  thought  of  it  makes  his  lip  curl  with  scorn. 
It  means  that  he  is  generous,  not  because  he  hopes  and 
expects  to  be  rewarded  for  his  generosity,  but  because 
it  is  as  natural  for  him  to  be  big-hearted  as  it  is  for  an 
athlete  to  be  broad-shouldered  :  he  could  n't  be  dishon- 
orable or  mean  any  more  than  a  giant  could  be  a  dwarf ; 
if  he  should  try,  he  would  n't  know  how  to  set  about  it. 
He  will  stand  by  a  friend,  not  because  he  expects  his 
friend  to  stand  by  him,  but  because  that  is  the  only 
thing  to  do  :  active  and  suggestive  as  his  mind  is,  it  is 
not  suggestive  enough  to  think  of  leaving  his  friend  in 
the  lurch.  It  means  that  he  is  grateful  for  benefits  tc- 
ceived,  not  because  it  would  not  look  well  to  be  un- 
grateful, not  because  men  would  despise  him  if  he  were 
ungrateful,  but  because  he  can't  help  being  grateful. 

You  have  heard  of  antipathies.  There  are  some  per- 
sons who  will  grow  faint  at  the  sight  of  a  spider,  and 
others  who  will  almost  become  wild  at  the  sight  of  a 
snake.     It  is  useless  to  convince  them  that  the  spider 


HONOR.  155 

and  the  reptile  are  actually  as  harmless  as  butterflies, 
—  they  are  not  harmless  to  them.  The  soul  of  honor 
has  a  very  similar  antipathy  to  all  things  that  are  mean 
and  contemptible.  The  soul  without  honor  has  no  such 
antipatliy  :  to  it  they  may  seem  as  harmless  as  butter- 
flies ;  it  might  not  even  be  able  to  recognize  them- as 
mean  and  contemptible  except  that  it  has  learned  that 
they  are  so  regarded  by  others. 

The  general  sense  of  mankind  is  a  very  important 
guide  to  those  who  are  below  the  average  in  honor  and 
virtue  :  whatever  they  may  be  within  their  own  hearts 
and  souls,  it  enables  them  to  preserve  a  certain  respec- 
tability in  their  outward  conduct.  The  fear  of  what 
others  will  think  of  them  is  the  chief  or  only  restraint 
upon  their  meanness  and  wickedness,  unless  it  be  the 
stronger,  even  more  ignoble  fear  of  what  others  will  do 
to  them. 

But  though  they  have  learned  that  there  is  a  generally 
recognized  standard  of  honor  and  respectability  above 
their  own  natural  standard,  still  they  cannot  believe  in 
its  reality  :  in  their  secret  hearts  they  believe  it  is  an 
artificial  standard,  raised  from  motives  of  general  pol- 
icy. In  other  words,  they  cannot  help  judging  others 
by  themselves.  Living  in  a  valley  and  breathing  its 
noxious  gases,  they  cannot  see  the  heights  above  them 
where  others  dwell  in  a  purer  atmosphere.  To  them 
there  are  no  really  honest  men.  "  Every  man  has  his 
price,  if  you  only  bid  high  enough."  Fabricius,  who 
"  could  no  more  deviate  from  the  path  of  honor  than 
the  sun  could  leave  his  course  in  the  heavens,"  is  to 
them  a  myth,  an  impossibility.  Boys  and  girls,  put  no 
faith  in  the  man  who  believes  that  there  is  no  honor  in 
his  fellow-men  :  be  sure  he  is  judging  others  by  himself. 
There  are  authors  Avho  describe  only  villains,  —  they 
little  know  that  they  are  only  showing  to  the  world 
their  own  bad  hearts.  Dean  Swift  had  a  clever  brain, 
but  a  villainous  heart. 


156  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

Lucy  Snoiv.  Is  not  the  general  sense  of  mankind  im- 
portant to  the  honorable  as  Avell  as  to  the  dishonorable  — • 
That  is  not  exactly  what  I  meant  to  say.  I  meant, 
Ought  not  every  one  to  regard  the  opinions  of  others  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Most  certainly,  Miss  Snow.  But  while  the 
man  of  honor  duly  values  the  opinion  of  others,  he  val- 
ues his  own  opinion  of  himself  still  more  highly. 

LitcT/  Snoiv.  What  is  the  difference  between  that  and 
vanity  or  egotism  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  The  difference  is,  that  vanity  and  egotism 
are  most  sensitive  to  the  opinion  of  others,  while  honor 
is  most  sensitive  to  that  of  self.  Vanity  thirsts  for  ad- 
miration on  account  of  personal  beauty,  dress,  wit,  fine 
horses  or  houses,  graceful  accomplishments,  etc. ;  when 
the  objects  of  the  desired  admiration  are  less  frivolous, 
such  as  intellectual  achievements,  social,  financial,  mili- 
tary, or  political  power,  vanity  rises  to  ambition  more 
or  less  laudable ;  when  the  object  is  still  higher,  virtu- 
ous, benevolent,'  honorable  conduct,  it  becomes  no  longer 
vanity,  but  a  most  noble  and  praiseworthy  aspiration. 
The  man  of  honor  may  feel  all  these  in  due  measure, 
but  high  above  them  all  is  his  desire  for  the  approval 
of  his  own  conscience  and  self-respect. 

To  the  man  absolutely  devoid  of  honor  his  own  opin- 
ion of  himself  is  nothing :  that  of  others  is  everything, 
either  on  account  of  the  love  of  approbation,  which  the 
lowest  possess  in  some  degree,  or  for  a  worse  reason. 

Frank  Williams.     For  what  worse  reason  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  For  the  reason  that  a  sheep's  clothing  some- 
times serves  a  wolf  better  than  his  own. 

The  moral  furnishings  of  some  persons  are  very  much 
like  the  household  furnishings  of  a  family  I  once  visited 
with  my  father  on  his  professional  rounds,  when  I  was 
a  very  small  lad,  so  small  that  the  family  did  not  think 
it  necessary  to  keep  me  confined  in  the  "  show  rooms  " 
where  their  other  callers  sat.  As  you  will  never  know 
who  this  family  were  or  where  they  lived,  I  do  not  feel 


HONOR.  157 

that  I  am  violating  confidence  in  telling  you  about  tliem. 
The  contrast  between  the  *'  show  rooms  "  and  the  rest 
of  the  house  was  so  strong  that  it  made  an  indelible 
impression  upon  my  childish  mind.  Such  neatness  and 
elegance  here,  such  abominable  dirt  and  squalor  there ! 
Nothing,  evidently,  was  too  fine  for  the  parlor,  dining- 
room,  and  guest  chamber,  where  the  outer  world  some- 
times penetrated ;  but  as  to  the  kitchen  and  family  bed- 
rooms, what  did  it  matter  ?  "  iSTo  one  would  see  them." 
Ah,  how  many  of  us  furnish  the  secret  chambers  of  our 
minds  and  hearts  as  richly  as  we  furnish  the  parlors  ? 

Most  people  are  exceedingly  lenient  critics  of  them- 
selves ;  they  rarely  underestimata  their  own  wisdom, 
cleverness,  or  personal  attractions,  and  as  to  their  moral 
qualities,  they  generally  consider  them  well  up  to  the 
average.  They  may  be  conscious  of  having  committed 
acts  which  they  would  severely  condemn  in  others,  but 
then  there  are  always  peculiarly  mitigating  circum- 
stances in  their  own  cases.  It  is  astonishing  how  ten- 
derly a  culprit  will  view  his  own  derelictions  from  duty. 
Surely  no  one  else  was  ever  so  strongly  tempted  ;  it  was 
the  fault  of  his  peculiar  temperament,  and,  pray,  how 
could  he  help  that  ?  Besides,  what  he  has  done  was 
not  so  very  bad,  after  all,  under  the  circumstances ; 
others  have  done  worse  ;  you  yourself  would  probably 
have  done  the  same  if  you  had  been  in  his  situation. 
Or  he  may  go  still  further  and  throw  the  blame  entirely 
on  some  one  else  who  put  the  temptation  in  his  way, 
and  virtually  obliged  him  to  yield  to  it.  If  men  in  gen- 
eral always  judged  others  by  themselves  there  would 
be  few  misanthropes ;  it  would  be  a  pretty  good  sort  of 
world,  after  all. 

James  Murphij.     What  is  a  misanthrope,  Dr.  Dix  ? 

Dr.  D'lx.     Well  ? 

Helen  Sawyer.  One  who  hates  or  despises  tlie  whole 
race  of  men  —  except  himself. 

Dr.  Dix.    Sometimes  he  includes  himself,  but  oftener 


158  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

he  judges  himself  in  the  lenient  way  I  have  been  de- 
scribing, and  maintains  the  balance  in  his  judgment  by 
undue  severity  towards  others. 

But  the  man  of  honor  is  his  own  severest  critic. 
What  he  might  pardon  to  the  weakness  or  peculiar 
temptations  of  others  he  cannot  pardon  in  himself. 
He  is  especially  severe  in  regard  to  what  he  does  or  is 
tempted  to  do  in  secret.  "  Coward ! "  he  will  say  to 
himself,  "would  you  do  this  thing  because  there  is  no 
eye  to  see  you  ?     Shame  upon  you  !  " 

We  will  suppose  that  a  private  letter  falls  in  his 
way.  He  sees  from  the  superscription  that  it  is  in- 
tended for  his  political  rival.  It  probably  contains  in- 
formation that  would  be  of  the  greatest  importance  to 
himself.  The  seal  has  already  been  broken  :  he  might 
read  it  through  and  through,  and  no  man  but  himself 
would  be  the  wiser.  Does  such  a  thought  enter  his 
mind  ?  If  so,  he  spurns  it  from  him  as  if  it  were  a 
•venomous  reptile. 

He  encloses  it  in  an  envelope  and  addresses  it  to  his 
rival  with  a  polite  note  of  explanation.  The  receiver 
opens  it  and  —  turns  pale.  His  wily  plans  are  all  known ; 
he  knows  what  human  nature  is,  he  knows  what  he 
would  have  done.  As  the  sender  has  not  condescended 
to  make  any  statement,  his  conviction  is  the  stronger. 

He  acts  upon  his  conviction :  he  informs  his  hench- 
men that  it  is  all  up  with  them,  and  gives  his  grounds 
for  the  information.  Indirectly  it  comes  to  the  ears  of 
the  finder  of  the  letter  that  he  took  the  dishonorable 
advantage  which  fortune  threw  in  his  way.  What  does 
he  do? 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.  The  time  was  when  he  would  have 
taken  the  only  recognized  course  to  vindicate  his  honor. 

Dr.  Dix.     Challenged  his  slanderer  ? 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.     Yes,  Dr.  Dix. 

Dr.  Dix.  And  would  that  have  accomplished  his 
purpose  ? 


J 


HONOR.  159 

Geoffrey/  Jenkins.  It  would  at  least  have  silenced  the 
tongue  of  slander. 

Dr.  Dlx.  As  well  as  his  own  tongue  or  that  of  his 
antagonist  forever.  But  how  would  that  have  affected 
the  fact  of  his  real  honor  or  dishonor  ?  Whatever  that 
fact  was,  the  challenge  would  probably  have  followed 
the  accusation. 

Geoffreij  Jenkins.  It  would  not  have  affected  the  real 
fact  in  the  least. 

Dr:  Dix.  What  would  he  probably  do  in  this  more 
civilized  age  ? 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.  He  would  indignantly  deny  the 
charge,  and  trust  to  what  men  already  knew  of  his  char- 
acter for  the  vindication  of  his  honor. 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes ;  that  would  probably  be  all-sufficient. 
But  a  far  better  course  would  be  to  treat  the  accusation 
as  utterly  beneath  the  notice  of  the  man  of  honor  he 
professes  to  be.  His  friends  —  who  could  testify  that 
whatever  he  might  have  discovered  from  the  tempting 
document  he  kept  scrupulously  to  himself  —  would  do 
the  rest. 


XXX. 

"WHEN  THE  CAT'S  AWAY  THE  MICE  WILL  PLAY." 

Dr.  Dix  \_ente7'ing  his  schoolroom  late  and  finding  it 
in  disorder^.  Ah,  it  seems  that  I  have  interrupted  your 
diversions  and  pastimes.  This  sudden  unnatural  still- 
ness is  quite  oppressive.  —  Pray  go  on  just  as  if  I  were 
not  here.  —  \\^ell,  Avhy  don't  you  go  on  ?  Why  don't 
you  throw  that  crayon,  Cracklin,  as  you  were  intending 
to  do  ? 

Joseph  Cracklin.     Do  you  order  me  to  throw  it,  sir  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  By  no  means.  I  asked  you  to  do  as  you 
would  if  I  were  not  present.  Would  that  justify  you  ? 
Would  it  release  you  from  the  proper  penalty  of  your 
misconduct  ? 

t/osejjh  Cracklin,.  N-no,  Dr.  Dix.  But  I  was  not  the 
only  one  ;  the  others  were  — 

Dr.  Dix.  We  have  already  expressed  our  sentiments 
on  the  courage,  manliness,  and  honor  of  throwing  blame 
upon  others.  They  will  undoubtedly  speak  for  them- 
selves. 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.     I  threw  crayons,  Dr.  Dix. 

Archibald  Watson.     And  so  did  I. 

Jonathan  Tower.     And  I. 

Dr.  Dix.  That  is  very  well  so  far.  "  Open  confes- 
sion is  good  for  the  soul."  Does  any  one  else  wish  to 
relieve  his  mind  ? 

Henry  DhilUps.  I  drew  that  picture  on  the  black- 
board ;  but  —  but  I  was  intending  to  rub  it  out  befoue 
you.  came. 

Dr.  Dix.  And  you  think,  I  suppose,  that  that  inten- 
tion palliates  your  offence.     I  shall  allude  to  that  kind 


THE  CAT  AWAY,   THE  MICE  WILL  PLAY.      161 

of  palliation  presently.  I  await  further  acknowledg- 
ment that  any  one  has  to  make. 

Charles  Fox.     I  called  on  Butters  to  make  a  speech. 

Dr.  Dix.     Yes  ;  and,  Butters,  did  you  respond  ? 

Trumbull  Butters.  l\o,  Dr.  Dix.  He  and  the  rest 
of  the  boys  are  all  the  time  nagging  me,  —  all  except 
Dunn.  He  tried  to  keep  order  while  you  were  away,  — 
he  and  some  of  the  big  girls. 

Dr.  Dix.  Nagging  is  another  subject  that  we  shall 
do  well  to  consider.  Dunn  and  the  "  big  girls  "  deserve, 
and  hereby  receive,  my  hearty  and  sincere  thanks. 

Susan  Perkins.  I  am  sorry  to  say.  Dr.  Dix,  that  all 
the  *'big  girls"  are  not  altogether  blameless;  I  for  one 
am  not.     I  confess  and  apologize. 

Jane  Simjjson.     And  I  wish  to  do  the  same. 

Dr.  Dix.  That  is  the  most  honorable  thing  you  can 
do  now,  except  to  resolve  not  to  offend  again.  Well,  if 
there  are  no  more  confessions,  I  will  now  hear  any  fur- 
ther excuses  or  explanations  that  any  one  has  to  offer. 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.  We  only  thought  we  would  have 
a  little  fun  ;  we  did  n't  think  there  Avas  any  harm  in'  it 
as  long  as  you  were  not  here.  We  could  n't  do  much 
studying,  you  know. 

Dr.  Dix.     Why  not  ? 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.  Because  —  because  there  was  so 
much  noise.     \_La%ighter.'\ 

Dr.  Dix  \_joinin(j  in  the  laurjh'].  If  all  your  fun  was 
as  funny  as  that,  you  must  have  enjoyed  j^ourselves  ! 

ArcJiibald  Watson.  But  do  you  really  think,  Dr.  Dix, 
there  was  any  harm  in  our  having  a  little  fun  as  long 
as  you  were  not  here  to  direct  our  work  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Fun  is  a  most  excellent  thing.  It  is  one 
of  the  greatest  blessings  conferred  upon  our  race  ;  it  is 
good  for  the  body,  for  the  mind,  for  the  heart,  for  the 
soul.  Laugh  and  grow  fat ;  be  jolly  and  long-lived.  I 
will  not  yield  to  any  one  in  my  fondness  for  fun.  But 
no  good  thing,  even  fun,  is  good  at  the  wrong  time  and 


162  CHABACTER  BUILDING. 

in  the  wrong  place.  The  time  you  have  given  to  it  this 
morning  belonged  to  ivork.  What  if  I  was  not  here  ? 
When  the  hours  of  work  and  play  were  laid  down  for 
you  no  such  condition  was  affixed  as  "if  Dr.  Dix  is 
here."     I  may  be  late  again,  as  I  was  this  morning. 

You  say,  "  We  wanted  a  little  fun."  Who  are  the  we  ? 
It  seems  there  were  some  of  your  number  who  did  not 
want  it, — some  who  '•  tried  to  keep  order."  They  wanted 
the  time  for  study,  and  they  had  a  right  to  it.  Why 
should  you  defraud  them  of  their  right  ?  Your  fun, 
therefore,  was  of  the  kind  we  spoke  of  some  time  ago, 
that  which  injures  or  annoys  others.  It  is  not  unlikely 
that  that  fact  had  something  to  do  with  its  being  funny, 

—  that  and  the  other  fact  that  it  was  in  violation  of  the 
rules  of  school.  Are  you  quite  sure  that  if  it  had  not 
been  for  these  two  conditions  it  would  not  have  been 
rather  tame  fun  ? 

I  say,  what  if  I  was  not  here  ?  Am  I  to  understand 
that  my  presence  is  indispensable  to  the  performance  of 
your  duty  ?  Do  you  do  right  only  because  you  are  afraid 
of  me  ."^  If  that  is  the  case,  how  do  I  differ  from  the 
policeman  who  stands  with  his  billy  on  the  corner  of 
the  street,  and  how  do  you  differ  from  those  who  are 
watching  for  him  to  disappear  around  the  corner  ?  Is 
that  why  your  fathers  and  mothers  obey  the  civil  laws, 

—  because  they  are  afraid  of  the  policeman  ?  Is  that 
why  yo7i  Avill  obey  the  civil  laws  when  you  in  your  turn 
become  men  and  women  ?  School  is  a  civil  community 
on  a  small  scale ;  it  is  governed  by  its  laws  just  as  the 
state  and  the  city  are  governed  by  their  laws.  If  you 
need  a  teacher-policeman  to  keep  you  from  small  viola- 
tions of  law  here,  what  guarantee  have  we  that  you  will 
not  need  a  rougher  policeman  to  keep  you  from  greater 
offences  and  harsher  penalties  hereafter  ? 

Susan  Perkins.  Dr.  Dix,  we  need  your  presence  here, 
not  because  we  are  afraid  of  the  punishments  you  may 
inflict,  but  because  we  are  afraid  of  displeasing  you. 


THE  CAT  ^lIF.ir,   THE  MICE   WILL  PLAY.       163 

Dr.  D'lx.  It  is  very  gratifying  to  hear  you  say  so  ; 
still,  the  principle  is  the  same,  for  my  displeasure  is  a 
punishment  to  those  who  care  for  it.  I  believe  you  all 
do  care  for  it,  aud  for  this  time  it  shall  be  your  only 
punishment,  —  at  least  the  only  one  /  shall  inflict. 

But  I  wish  you  to  observe  that  I  have  more  than 
ordinary  reason  to  be  displeased.  Have  you  forgotten 
our  last  Talk  ?     What  was  its  subject  ? 

Several   Voices.     Honor. 

Dr.  Dix.  Your  lowered  tones  and  your  downcast 
eyes  show  how  you  think  you  have  illustrated  that 
subject  this  morning.  Does  the  man  of  honor  need  a 
policeman  to  keep  him  to  his  duty  ?  What  cares  he  for 
a  policeman,  whom  a  whole  regiment  with  fixed  bayo- 
nets could  not  drive  from  the  path  of  duty  ! 

As  I  said  a  long  time  ago,  I  cannot  expect  that  one 
Talk  or  a  hundred  will  work  a  complete  transforma- 
tion. Character  is  a  structure  that  is  slow  in  building ; 
but  it  is  all  the  more  solid  when  built.  But  may  I  not 
hope  that  both  our  Talk  and  the  practical  lesson  of  this 
morning  may  do  something  to  strengthen  the  principle 
of  HoNOK  m  this  school  ? 


XXXI. 

NAGGING. 

Dr.  Dix.  I  promised  to  speak  of  nagging.  The 
glances  of  resentment  and  strong  disapproval  which, 
were  directed  to  the  boy  who  publicly  reported  his  griev- 
ance did  not  escape  my  notice.  "  The  boys  are  all  the 
time  nagging  me,"  he  says.  Perhaps  you  think,  boys, 
he  was  not  honorable  in  reporting  you.  Well,  since 
"  honor  is  the  subject  of  my  story,"  let  us  consider  his 
course  and  yours  from  that  standpoint. 

In  the  first  place,  I  wish  to  give  you  full  credit  for  the 
manly  courage  and  promptness  with  which  you  reported 
your  own  misconduct,  and,  girls,  I  pay  a  like  tribute  to 
your  womanly  courage  and  promptness. 

The  young  man  in  question  acted  the  part  of  an 
informer,  a  talebearer  ;  hence  your  glances  of  scornful 
disapproval.  I  think  I  understand  your  feelings.  I  was 
a  boy  myself  once  ;  I  did  not  spring  into  an  existence 
of  full  maturity,  like  Minerva  from  the  brain  of  Jove. 
And  I  have  not  forgotten  how  I  felt  when  I  was  a  boy  ; 
so  I  suppose  you  are  willing  to  admit  my  competency 
to  discuss  this  matter  with  you. 

I  say  I  have  not  forgotten  how  I  felt  when  I  was  a 
boy.  Why  don't  I  feel  in  the  same  way  now  that  I  am 
a  man  ?  Is  it  because  I  have  grown  less  generous  and 
honorable  ?  I  should  be  sorry  indeed  to  believe  so.  Is 
it  because  my  judgment  is  less  clear  ?  I  can  hardly 
believe  that,  since  judgment  is  one  of  those  faculties 
which  are  usually  most  strengthened  by  years  and  ex- 
perience. No;  my  philosophy  is,  that  boys  develop 
unsymmetrically  in  their  judgment  and  sentiments,  just 


NAGGING.  165 

as  they  do  in  their  bodies.  While  they  are  growing, 
sometimes  their  legs  and  arms  are  too  long  for  their 
bodies  and  sometimes  they  are  too  short ;  sometimes  their 
hands  and  feet  are  too  large  and  their  shoulders  too 
narrow,  or  they  are  otherwise  "  out  of  drawing."  Never 
mind ;  healthy  maturity  will  bring  symmetry,  or  at  least 
an  approach  to  it.  There  are  similar  disproportions  in 
growing  minds  and  hearts,  which  full  healthy  maturity 
will  go  far  to  correct.  The  imagination  and  fancy,  for 
example,  like  the  legs,  are  too  long,  while  the  reason 
and  judgment,  like  the  body,  are  too  short.  "The 
Bloody  Scalper  of  the  Plains  "  is  the  ideal  hero,  who 
will  hereafter  subside  into  the  vulgar  criminal  he  is. 
But  especially  is  the  immature  sense  of  honor  out  of 
proportion.  I  know  of  scarcely  anything  more  gro- 
tesque in  the  whole  range  of  human  nature  than  the 
average  boy's  notion  of  certain  points  of  honor.  Don't 
feel  hurt,  bo^^s ;  I  don't  include  all  points  of  honor,  by 
any  means.  On  some  of  the  most  important,  boys  are 
generally  admirably  strong  and  sound.  On  none  are 
they  more  utterly  absurd  than  the  whole  human  race, 
young  and  old,  has  been  time  and  again.  As  the  biolo- 
gists say,  the  life-history  of  the  race  is  repeated  in  that 
of  the  individual.  Our  race  has  passed  through  its  in- 
fancy and  childhood  ;  but  Avhether  it  has  fully  emerged 
from  its  boyhood  is  a  question  that  can  be  determined 
only  by  comparing  its  present  with  its  future  develoi> 
ment.  Sureh'  no  boys'  code  of  honor  could  be  more 
thoroughly  wanting  in  the  first  principles  of  true  honor 
or  common  sense  than  that  which  has  been  especially 
dignified  by  that  title. 

But  I  think  the  individual  case  we  now  have  in  hand 
will  illustrate  some  of  the  points  of  honor  on  which 
boys  as  a  class  are  not  always  particularly  strong  and 
sound.     Let  us  consider  the  facts. 

Butters  told  me  nothing  that  I  did  not  already  know. 
I  am  not  quite  deaf  nor  quite  blind.     I  see  and  hear 


166  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

more,  perhaps,  than  you  think.  The  only  question  I 
"was  in  doubt  about  was,  whether  your  continual  '■  nag- 
ging "  really  troubled  him.  He  bore  it  with  such  good- 
natured  indifference,  so  far  as  I  could  see  at  least,  that 
perhaps  you  were  in  equal  uncertainty  with  myself  in 
regard  to  its  actual  effect  upon  him. 

Archibald  Watson.  No,  Dr.  Dix ;  we  kneAV  it  really 
plagued  him,  or  we  should  not  have  kept  it  vip. 

Dr.  Dix.  Ah,  then  I  must  give  you  credit  for  clearer 
perceptions  than  my  own.  And  yet  I  might  have 
known,  for  the  advice  I  always  give  in  such  cases  is, 
let  them  see  that  you  don't  care  for  their  nonsense, 
and  they  will  soon  tire  of  it.  That  is  precisely  what  I 
thought  Butters  was  doing,  and  I  rather  wondered  why 
the  usual  effect  did  not  follow.  But  then  I  knew  how 
persevering  boys  are  in  such  matters  ;  if  they  showed 
a  like  perseverance  in  a  Avorthier  cause  we  should  see 
better  results  on  Promotion  Day. 

Let  us  return  to  our  facts.  You  "  knew  it  plagued 
him,"  and  therefore  you  "  kept  it  up."  Could  we  have 
a  better  illustration  of  the  kind  of  fun  you  have  all 
agreed  with  me  in  condemning  ?  Is  it  in  accordance 
with  the  boys'  code  of  honor  ? 

I  wish  it  had  not  plagued  him.  There  are  some 
strong  natures  that  really  care  no  more  for  such  petty 
persecution  than  for  the  buzzing  of  flies.  But  we  can- 
not all  be  like  them.  Because  the  elephant's  hide  is 
impervious  to  the  mosquito,  the  same  does  not  follow  of 
the  horse's  hide  or  even  of  the  tiger's. 

Trumbull  Butters.  But  boys  are  bigger  than  mos- 
quitoes, —  some  of  them  are  bigger  than  I  am.  They 
"would  n't  have  nagged  me  so  much  if  they  were  n't. 
\_Laughter.  ] 

Dr.  Dix.  A  palpable  hit.  Butters.  You  seem  able 
to  defend  yourself  with  your  tongue,  at  least. 

Tnimbull  Butters.  I  think  I  could  defend  myself  if 
they  did  n't  all  side  against  me.  Twenty  to  one  is  too 
bier  odds. 


NAGGING.  167 

Dr.  Dix.  That  deserves  generous  applause,  boys. 
.  .  .  There,  that  will  do  for  the  present. 

Trumbull  Butters.  They  don't  mean  it  for  applause, 
Dr.  Dix  ;  it 's  only  some  more  of  their  foolish  nonsense. 
But  /don't  care  for  'em. 

Dr.  Dix.  No ;  you  're  wrong  there,  Butters.  That 
was  genuine,  —  w^as  it  not,  boys  ? 

Chorus.     Yes,  Dr.  Dix. 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.  Well,  I  will  let  him  alone  here- 
after. I  should  have  been  willing  to  apologize  for  my 
share  of  it,  if  he  hadn't  peached. 

Dr.  Dix.  No,  Jenkins  ;  I  beg  your  pardon,  you  would 
have  done  nothing  of  the  sort.  If  he  had  not  done  ex- 
actly what  he  did  do,  you  would  have  gone  on  indefi- 
nitely wdth  the  rest  of  the  "twenty  against  one."  "Why 
should  n't  he  "  peach,"  as  you  call  it  ?  What  other  de- 
fence had  he  against  your  continued  annoyance  ?  As  he 
himself  has  so  justly  and  pertinently  said,  there  were 
too  big  odds  against  him  to  attempt  his  own  defence. 

Geoffrey  Jenkins  [sullenly'^.  If  he  had  wanted  it,  Ave 
would  have  given  him  fair  play. 

Dr.  Dix.  You  mean  that  you  would  have  made  a 
ring  and  let  him  fight  it  out  with  you,  one  by  one  ? 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.  Y-yes,  Dr.  Dix  \_suddenly  eolorinr/'\ 
—  I  —  I  did  n't  mean  that  —  I "  — 

Dr.  Dix.  Ah,  I  see  you  have  some  wholesome  recol- 
lections of  the  past.  Well,  this  becoming  exhibition  of 
feeling  encourages  me  to  believe  that  our  Talks  have 
not  been  entirely  without  effect. 

Suppose  these  battles  had  been  fought,  even  if  But- 
ters would  have  been  justified  in  his  share,  —  which, 
mark,  I  do  not  necessarily  admit,  but  I  need  not  tell 
you  on  which  side  my  sympathies  Avould  have  been,  — 
what  would  you  think  of  your  own  share  in  them  ? 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.     I  —  I  take  back  what  I  said. 

Trunihull  Butters.  I  offered  to  fight  'em  more  than 
once,  big  as  they  are  ;  but  they  would  n't  fight,  —  they 
only  guyed  me  worse  than  ever. 


168  CHAEACTER  BUILDING. 

Dr.  Dix.  Evidently  our  Talk  on  that  subject  has  not 
converted  you. 

Tnimhull  Butters  [disconsolately'].  You  told  us  that 
returning  good  for  evil  would  make  them  ashamed.  I 
honestly  tried  that  for  a  while  ;  but  it  did  n't  seem  to 
do  any  good.  Then  I  thought  I  would  try  the  other 
way. 

Dr.  Dix.  You  did  n't  try  long  enough.  It  did  more 
good  than  you  thought.  There 's  not  one  of  your  tor- 
mentors who  is  not  thoroughly  ashamed  at  this  moment, 
down  in  his  secret  heart.  I  challenge  one  of  them  to 
deny  it.     What  do  you  say,  Watson  ? 

Archibald  Watson.  I  never  saw  him  try  to  return 
much  "good  for  evil."  He  was  always  talking  about 
fighting,  but  nobody  supposed  he  really  meant  it. 

Trumbull  Butters  [yalorously'].  They  would  have 
found  out  whether  I  meant  it  or  not  if  they  had  tried. 
\_Derisive  laughter,  xohich  the  Doctor  instantly  checks.'] 

Dr.  Dix.  I  suspect,  Butters,  that  your  attempt  to 
overcome  evil  with  good  was  rather  feeble  and  short. 
I  am  thankful,  however,  that  there  was  an  attempt.  I 
shall  never  cease  trying  so  long  as  there  is  so  much 
fruit  as  this.  Come,  my  boy,  you  are  now  the  only  ob- 
stacle to  a  complete  reconciliation.  The  boys  have  al- 
ready advanced  a  long  way  to  meet  you ;  but  you  have 
not  as  yet  yielded  an  inch.  As  long  as  you  maintain 
this  hostile  and  implacable  attitude  you  cannot  expect 
them  to  advance  much  further. 

Trumbull  Butters.  I  am  willing  to  be  friends  if  they 
are. 

Dr.  Dix.  Then  we  '11  have  no  more  talk  about  fight- 
ing. I  say,  boys,  why  should  n't  your  victim  peach  ? 
Under  what  possible  moral  obligation  was  he  to  endure 
your  abuse  day  after  day  and  week  after  week  ?  Give 
him  credit  for  the  long  time  he  endured  it  before  he  did 
peach.  When  your  fathers  and  mothers  are  wronged, 
they  do  not  wait  until  they  can  endure  it  no  longer 


i 


NAGGING.  169 

before  they  appeal  to  the  proper  authorities  for  protec- 
tion and  redress. 

Archibald  Watson.  They  wouldn't  mind  a  little  nag- 
ging. 

Dr.  Dix.  In  the  first  place,  we  are  not  talking  about 
a  little  nagging ;  and  in  the  next,  grown-up  men  and 
women  do  not  often  indulge  in  such  amusement,  —  their 
sense  of  honor  is  usually  developed  beyond  that  point. 
Of  course  you  understand  I  am  speaking  of  respectable 
men  and  women,  as  you  are  of  respectable  boys  and 
girls. 

I  will  leave  it  to  your  own  consciences  and  to  the  in- 
fluence of  our  past  Talks  to  decide  whether  the  joining 
of  twenty  against  one  —  with  the  knowledge  that  that 
one  could  not  defend  liimself  by  his  own  unaided  power, 
and  with  the  belief  that  in  deference  to  the  boys'  code 
of  honor  he  would  not  inform  against  you  —  was  gener- 
ous or  mean,  manly  or  unmanly,  chivalrous  or  dastardly, 
brave  or  cowardly,  honorable  or  dishonorable. 

Now,  a  few  words  on  the  subject  of  nagging  in  gen- 
eral. When  there  is  fair  play,  and  when  it  is  not  carried 
to  the  extent  of  being  really  a  serious  annoyance,  it  is 
not  an  unmitigated  eviL  If  one  is  too  thin-skinned,  it 
may  be  an  excellent  remedy.  Socrates,  as  you  know, 
placed  a  very  high  value  upon  one  species  of  it  as  a 
means  of  discipline.  But  the  option  should  always  be 
allowed  the  subject  of  the  remedy  as  to  whether  it  shall 
be  applied  or  not.  If  he  is  sensible,  he  will  submit  to  it 
with  a  good  grace  and  return  the  favor  for  the  benefit 
of  his  physician,  who  should  submit  with  equally  good 
grace.  If  he  is  not  sensible  enough  to  do  this,  no  one 
has  the  moral  right  to  force  it  upon  him. 

Joking  at  other  people's  expense  is  often  very  funny, 
and  the  victims  are  often  as  much  amused  as  others. 
Sometimes,  however,  it  is  far  otherwise  ;  you  cannot 
always  tell  how  deep  the  wound  is  under  the  indifferent 
or  smiling  exterior.     If  this  kind  of  joking  becomes  a 


170  CHARACTER   BUILDING. 

habit,  like  all  other  habits  it  will  grow  until,  before  he  is 
aware,  the  joker  may  have  become  intolerable  to  all  his 
acquaintances.  Intimate  friends  among  boys,  and  girls 
too,  are  especially  liable  to  the  habit :  they  sometimes 
carry  it  to  such  an  excess  that  nearly  everything  they 
say  to  each  other  is  some  sort  of  disparaging  joke. 

All  this  may  be  very  entertaining  up  to  a  certain 
point,  but  gradually  the  little  stings,  which  at  first  only 
tickled  the  skin,  begin  to  reach  the  quick.  Never  let 
your  fiui  go  as  far  as  this.  Watch  yourselves.  Re- 
member that  too  much  of  a  good  thing  is  often  worse 
than  none  of  it.  If  you  find  that  pretty  nearly  every- 
thing your  friend  does  or  says  suggests  to  you  some 
unpleasant  witticism  at  his  expense,  stop  short ;  forego 
for  a  while  those  stale,  vulgar  old  insinuations  in  regard 
to  his  miraculous  gastronomic  powers  or  the  superiority 
of  his  pedal  over  his  cerebral  development.  \_Lau(jh- 
ter.~\  Let  your  next  words  to  him  be  something  really 
agreeable  :  you  have  no  idea  how  refreshing  and  de- 
lightful you  Avill  both  find  the  change. 

On  the  other  hand,  don't  be  oversensitive.  Some 
persons  have  the  notion  that  extreme  sensitiveness  is 
an  indication  of  extreme  refinement.  It  is  more  often  a 
sign  of  extreme  selfishness  and  egotism.  It  is  only 
what  offends  themselves  that  excites  their  super-refined 
resentment ;  the  nerves  of  others  may  be  rasped  to  any 
extent  in  their  sight  and  hearing  without  disturbing 
them  very  seriously.  And,  above  all,  don't  be  that  par- 
ticularly unlovable  chara'^.ter  that  is  always  ready  to 
give  a  thrust,  but  never  ready  to  receive  one. 


XXXII. 
INDUSTRY,   WEALTH,  HAPPINESS. 

Dr.  Dix.  Among  the  habits  of  the  highest  impor- 
tance, from  its  effects  upon  health  of  body,  mind,  and 
heart,  upon  happiness  and  prosperity,  is  the  habit  of 
industry. 

Perfect  health  is  that  condition  in  which  all  the  func- 
tions of  body,  mind,  and  heart  are  in  harmonious  action, 
in  perfect  harmony  with  their  environments. 

Henri/  Jones.  What  are  environments  and  func- 
tions ? 

Dr.  Dix.     Well? 

Helen  Mar.  Environments  are  surroundings :  all 
things  outside  of  us  with  which  we  have  anything  to 
do  are  our  environments.  Functions  are  ofi&ces  to  per- 
form, things  to  do.  For  instance,  the  function  of  the 
legs  is  to  walk  and  run  ;  that  of  the  eyes  is  to  see  ;  that 
of  the  brain  is  to  think. 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes,  and  if  any  part  of  us  does  not  per- 
form its  proper  function  it  speedily  loses  its  health  and 
power.  If  the  legs  do  not  walk  or  run,  they  shrivel. 
Look  at  the  poor  cripple  who  rides  every  day  through 
the  streets  upon  his  "  velociman."  If  the  eyes  do  not 
exercise  their  power  of  sight,  they  eventually  lose  it. 

Activity,  then,  is  an  indispensable  condition  both  to 
health  and  happiness,  — continued  and  regular  activity; 
that  is,  industry. 

No  wish  is  more  often  felt  and  uttered  than  the  wish 
for  money  enough  to  live  without  labor.  Do  those  who 
so  often  feel  and  express  this  wish  know  what  it  really 
means  ?     It  means  for  most  people  a  wish  to  lose  the 


172  CHABACTER  BUILDING. 

only  thing  which  forces  them  to  be  healthy  and  happy. 
That  lost,  all  that  would  remain  would  be  their  own 
sense  of  the  usefulness  of  effort  and  their  resolution  to 
continue  it  in  spite  of  its  irksomeness.  Do  they  know 
how  efficient  that  sense  and  that  resolution  would  be  ? 
Let  them  try  a  very  simple  experiment :  let  them  re- 
solve to  take  a  mile  walk  every  morning  simply  for  its 
healthfulness.  Hundreds  and  thousands  of  people  do 
try  this  experiment,  but  I  will  venture  to  say  that  not 
one  in  a  hundred  continues  it  year  after  year.  It  works 
very  well  for  a  while,  but  gradually  it  gets  to  be  less 
interesting,  then  somewhat  of  a  bore,  then  most  decid- 
edly a  bore ;  then  a  morning  is  omitted  occasionally, 
then  every  alternate  morning  is  omitted,  —  then  the 
walk  is  taken  only  on  very  pleasant  mornings,  and 
finally  it  is  dropped  altogether  in  disgust.  Indolence 
with  its  present  ease  and  future  penalties  is  preferred 
to  industry  with  its  present  irksomeness  and  future  re- 
wards. So  the  muscles  are  allowed  to  grow  flabby,  and 
the  vitals  to  grow  sickly  and  feeble. 

Such  is  the  usual  end  of  labor  performed  for  the  sole 
purpose  of  benefiting  the  health.  But  suppose  the  mile 
Avalk  is  a  matter  of  necessity,  to  take  a  man  from  his 
home  to  his  office,  shop,  or  school.  Unless  it  increases 
the  tax  upon  his  powers  beyond  the  limit  of  health- 
fulness,  —  which  is,  of  course,  possible,  —  who  but  the 
incorrigibly  lazy  man  ever  thinks  of  it  as  other  than  a 
pleasant  and  wholesome  variety  to  his  life  of  enforced 
effort  ? 

Joseph  Cracldbi.  The  loss  of  the  advantage  of  being 
obliged  to  work  for  a  living  may  be  a  great  loss,  but  I 
don't  believe  the  person  ever  lived  who  could  not-easily 
be  reconciled  to  it.  I  think  I  could  bear  it  myself  Avitli- 
out  repining. 

Dr.  Dix.  I  have  no  doubt  of  it,  Cracklin.  If  such  a 
misfortune  should  befall  me,  I  don't  think  I  should  be 
utterly  inconsolable.     But  neither  good  nor  bad  fortune 


INDUSTRY,    WEALTH,  IIAPPIXESS.  173 

is  to  be  measured  by  the  present  rejoicing  or  mourning 
it  occasions.  Children  often  cry  for  what  their  wiser 
parents  know  will  not  be  good  for  thera.  The  wisest 
of  us  are  but  children  of  a  larger  growth,  and  it  is  well 
for  us  that  we  have  not  the  ordering  of  our  OAvn  for- 
tunes. Both  you  and  I  might  bitterly  lament  at  a  later 
day  what  we  now  might  look  upon  as  the  best  of  good 
fortune. 

Joseph  Crack/in.  Nevertheless  I  should  be  perfectly 
willing  to  take  the  risk. 

Dr.  Dix.  You  may  have  the  opportunity.  There 's 
no  knowing.  And  it  might  not,  after  all,  prove  a  mis- 
fortune to  you.  All  would  depend  upon  your  character, 
—  the  stuff  you  are  made  of.  But  however  it  might  be 
in  your  individual  case,  with  the  majority  the  effect  is 
more  or  less  disastrous.  Let  us  suppose  a  by  no  means 
unusual  instance :  — 

One  of  the  millions  who  sigh  so  eagerly  for  that  great- 
est of  all  blessings,  a  fortune,  suddenly  falls  into  one. 
Ah,  now  he  is  going  to  be  happy ;  no  more  grinding 
labor  for  him ;  he  is  now  going  to  live  a  life  of  elegant 
ease,  of  luxury,  of  "style."  He  is  not  going  to  be  abso- 
lutely idle,  of  course,  —  he  understands  that  occupation 
of  some  sort  is  necessary  to  his  health ;  but  now  he  can 
choose  his  occupation, — he  is  no  longer  forced  to  toil 
at  his  former  uncongenial  employment;  he  is  going  to 
improve  his  mind  and  his  taste,  —  perhaps,  now  and 
then,  he  may  even  do  some  sort  of  work  that  is  useful 
to  others. 

Well,  he  begins  his  new  life  with  great  enthusiasm. 
But  somehow  or  other  it  does  not  prove  just  what  he 
expected.  He  finds  that  improving  his  mind  and  taste  is 
not  so  agreeable  an  occupation  as  he  thought  it  was  going 
to  be :  there  is  hard  work  in  it  that  he  had  not  counted 
on.  He  still  finds  it  easier  to  read  a  cheap  novel  than 
a  good  one,  a  history,  an  essay,  or  a  poem.  He  meant  to 
study  music  and  art ;  but  his  wealth  does  not  diminish 


174  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

one  iota  the  irksomeness  of  the  laborious  beginnings. 
To  his  dismay,  he  finds  that  the  same  is  true  of  all  the 
best  things  he  looked  forward  to  with  such  delight- 
ful anticipations  ;  they  all  cost  hard  tvork.  The  mere 
consciousness  of  his  wealth,  at  first  a  delight  in  itself, 
soon  loses  the  charm  of  novelty,  and  with  it  its  power 
to  delight,  —  all  things  do  that,  scholars,  which  are  in 
themselves  unchanging,  and  which  demand  no  effort 
of  mind,  heart,  or  body  ;  the  social  position  which  his 
wealth  gives  him,  that  at  least  to  which  he  aspires,  can 
be  maiiitained  only  by  the  cultivation  of  those  graces 
which  require  work,  work  as  hard  as  that  from  which 
his  wealth  delivered  him,  —  ay,  harder,  for  that  he  per- 
formed under  the  stimulus  of  necessity,  while  this  costs 
the  effort  of  resolution. 

Stronger  and  stronger  the  inclination  grows  upon  him. 
to  do  that  which  is  agreeable  in  the  doing,  leaving  the 
consequences  to  take  care  of  themselves.  Why  should 
n't  he  follow  his  inclination?  What  is  there  to  pre- 
vent ?  Has  n't  he  money  enough  to  do  as  he  likes  ? 
And  so  it  is  the  story  of  the  mile  walk  over  again. 
His  muscles,  once  hard  and  strong,  become  flaccid  and 
shrunken ;  his  mind,  once  full  of  energy  and  vigorous 
interest  in  his  honest  labor,  becomes  vacant  and  list- 
less ;  the  days,  once  too  short  for  the  unappreciated 
happiness  that  filled  them,  become  long  and  tedious ; 
the  nights,  once  almost  unknown  to  his  consciousness, 
are  even  worse  than  the  days,  —  fortunate,  indeed,  is  he 
if  their  weariness  is  not  beguiled  with  the  vices  that 
lead  by  the  shortest  path  to  ruin  of  body  and  soul. 

The  bitter  "  Curse  of  Nature "  has  been  removed, 
but  a  bitterer  curse  has  taken  its  place ;  the  grievous 
burden  of  labor  has  been  lifted  from  his  shoulders,  but 
a  heavier  burden  has  fallen  thereon. 

Julia  Taylor.  But  the  bitterer  curse  and  the  heavier 
burden  do  not  always  follow  :  did  n't  you  say  it  depends 
on  the  character  of  the  individual  ? 


INDUSTRY,    WEALTH,  HAPPINESS.  175 

Dr.  Dlx.  Yes,  Miss  Taylor,  and  I  repeat  it.  I  have 
told  you  the  story  of  multitudes  who  have  been  lucky 
enough  to  come  into  a  fortune  through  no  effort  or  merit 
of  their  own. 

Charles  Fox.  Why  should  n't  the  same  results  fol- 
low, even  if  the  fortune  was  acquired  by  their  own  ef- 
forts ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Because  the  habits  of  industry  and  energy 
which  were  necessary  to  acquire  the  fortune  are  gener- 
ally too  firmly  fixed  to  be  easily  dropped. 

Charles  Fox.  But  the  necessity  to  labor  has  been  re- 
moved in  either  case. 

Dr.  Dix.  No.  To  one  who  has  acquired  through  his 
own  effort  there  is  an  ever-increasing  necessity  to  ac- 
quire more,  while  the  free  gifts  of  Fortune  are  usually 
large  enough  to  satisfy  the  ambition  undeveloped  by 
effort.  "  What  comes  easily  goes  easily."  The  only  use 
of  unearned  money  is  to  be  freely  spent. 

I  have  told  you  the  story  of  multitudes  who  have 
been  lucky  enough  to  come  into  a  fortune  through  no 
effort  or  merit  of  their  own.  It  is  not  the  story  of  all. 
To  some  strong,  noble  natures  suddenly-acquired  wealth 
proves  really  a  blessing,  and  not  a  curse,  but  it  is  not 
because  it  relieves  them  from  the  necessity  of  labor. 
Industrious  before,  they  are  now  still  more  industrious, 
if  possible,  and  in  a  broader  field.  They  are  not  obliged 
to  toil  for  their  daily  bread,  but  there  are  other  neces- 
sities which  to  them  are  more  urgent  than  hunger  or 
thirst.  There  is  a  hunger  of  the  mind  which  impels  to 
effort  the  day  laborer  knows  not  of ;  there  is  a  thirst 
of  the  soul  which  can  be  satisfied  only  by  a  life  of  pa- 
tient industry  in  the  cause  of  human  welfare. 


XXXIII. 

INDUSTRY,  WEALTH,  HAPPINESS,  CONTINUED. 

Helen  Saivyer.  It  does  n't  seem  to  me  that  the  neces- 
sity to  work  for  a  living  is  indispensable  to  either  health 
or  happiness,  notwithstanding  the  Talk  of  last  week. 

Dr.  Dix  [sm'dinr/'].  I  have  sometimes  complained 
that  you  young  people  do  not  generalize  enough.  Here 
is  an  instance  of  too  wide  generalizing.  What  we  said 
last  week  of  the  majority,  Miss  Sawyer  evidently  un- 
derstood us  to  apply  to  all.  If  she  had  paid  a  little 
closer  attention,  or  if  she  had  remembered  more  accu- 
rately, she  would  not  have  ignored  the  important  excep- 
tions we  were  so  particidar  to  make. 

Helen  Sawyer.  But  it  seems  to  me  that  there  are  a 
great  many  more  exceptions  than  were  mentioned.  I 
know  plenty  of  people  who,  I  am  sure,  never  earned  a 
dollar  in  their  lives  and  who  never  needed  to  earn 
a  dollar,  and  yet  they  are  healthy  and  happy  enough, 
so  far  as  I  can  see.  They  always  seem  to  have  enough 
to  do,  too  :  what  with  reading,  writing  letters,  travel- 
ling, yachting,  driving,  going  to  the  opera,  playing  ten- 
nis, visiting,  and  attending  parties,  their  time  seems  to 
be  pretty  well  occupied.  And  they  are  so  bright  and 
rosy,  too,  —  at  least  some  of  them,  —  so  full  of  life  and 
spirits.  I  don't  see  what  good  it  would  do  them  to  have 
to  work  for  a  living.  I  can't  help  thinking  it  would 
only  make  them  dull  and  stupid  ;  at  any  rate,  that  it 
would  take  a  good  deal  of  the  brightness  out  of  their 
lives. 

Dr.  Dix.  You  have  drawn  a  most  charming  picture, 
Miss  Sawyer.     It  seems  an  ungracious  task  to  paint  out 


INDUSTRY,   WEALTH,  HAPPINESS.  Ill 

any  of  those  brilliant  colors.  And  yet  if  the  picture 
is  to  be  true  to  life  I  fear  it  must  be  done.  I  must  be 
the  ogre  in  your  paradise. 

Joseph  Cracklln.     In  her  ''  fool's  paradise." 

Helen  Sawyer  [_ivlth  spirW].  He  would  like  to  be 
one  of  the  fools,  all  the  same.  We  all  heard  him  say 
so.      \_Laughter.'\ 

Dr.  D'ix.  Well,  if  you  two  have  finished  your  passage 
at  arms,  the  ogre  will  proceed  with  his  ungracious  task. 

If  the  experience  of  all  mankind  has  established  one 
principle  more  firmly  than  another,  it  is  that  a  life  de- 
voted solely  to  pleasure-seeking  is  the  one  most  likely 
to  fail  in  its  object.  Such  a  life  will  do  well  enough 
for  the  butterfly,  —  it  seems  to  be  what  it  is  made  for ; 
but  man  was  made  for  a  different  purpose,  a  purpose 
immeasurably  nobler  and  higher,  —  a  purpose  upon 
which  not  only  his  usefulness,  but  his  health  and  hap- 
piness depend.  He  is  endowed  with  faculties  and  en- 
ergies which  call  for  action,  as  his  stomach  calls  for 
food,  as  his  lungs  call  for  air.  If  they  are  denied  action 
they  will  starve.  Mere  pleasure  is  not  their  proper 
food  nor  their  proper  air ;  it  is  only  their  confectionery 
and  their  wine.  Hence  a  life  devoted  to  pleasure  is  a 
life  of  mental  and  moral  starvation. 

All  that  Miss  Sawyer  and  the  rest  of  us  have  observed 
may  be  true,  so  far  as  external  seeming  goes.  Nature 
adapts  herself  wonderfully  to  circumstances.  She  will 
endure  the  violation  of  her  laws  for  years,  sometimes, 
without  apparent  penalty.  Throughout  the  years  of 
youth  she  is  particularly  forbearing.  But  the  penalty 
is  none  the  less  sure  because  it  is  delayed.  It  is  an 
infallible  law  that  no  pleasure  is  enduring  that  costs  no 
effort  of  mind  or  body. 

Helen  Sawyer.  But  some  of  the  pleasures  I  have 
mentioned  do  cost  effort,  and  plenty  of  it. 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes,  I  was  coming  to  that.  I  was  about  to 
say  that  even  those  whose  sole  object  in  life  is  pleasure 


178  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

have  discovered  the  law,  and  hence  some  of  their  plea- 
sures call  into  vigorous  play  certain  powers  of  mind  and 
body ;  in  certain  instances  they  even  cost  severe  and 
irksome  labor  in  preparation.  These  pleasures,  I  scarcely 
need  say,  are  the  longest-lived  of  all.  But  even  these 
fail  after  a  time,  because  their  object  is  not  high  and 
uoble  enough  to  last. 

You  have  described  the  votaries  of  pleasure  as  they 
appear  to  you.  But  you  see  them  only,  perhaps,  while 
tlieir  pleasures  are  yet  new,  before  they  have  lost  their 
charm.  Seek  them  out  a  few  years  later,  when  they 
have  withdrawn  from  the  society  that  no  longer  inter- 
ests them ;  when  the  wine  of  pleasure  has  lost  its  elfer- 
vescence,  and  their  jaded  appetites  find  no  substitutes 
for  the  sweetmeats  that  have  lost  their  taste.  Their 
powers,  unused  to  effort,  save  for  that  which  no  longer 
pleases,  refuse  to  be  aroused  by  less  stimulating  objects  : 
they  cannot  read,  for  the  sensational  novel  is  to  them 
no  longer  sensational ;  they  cannot  work,  for  labor  is 
even  more  insupportable  than  ennui.  In  short,  they 
are  "  the  most  mournful  and  yet  the  most  contemptible 
wrecks  to  be  found  along  the  shores  of  life." 

Helen  Saivyer.  Oh,  Dr.  Dix,  what  a  terrible  ruin 
you  have  made  of  my  "  charming  picture "  !  And  is 
that  to  be  the  fate  of  all  those  delightful  people  ? 

Br.  Dix.  I  truly  hope  that  it  may  be  the  fate  of  no 
one  of  them  !  I  truly  hope  that  the  mere  butterfly's 
life  may  satisfy  no  one  of  them  for  even  one  year  of 
their  bright,  vigorous  youth !  Their  travelling  and 
their  sailing,  their  opera-going  and  their  tennis-playing, 
and  all  the  rest  of  their  round  of  elegant  pleasures  are 
most  excellent  in  themselves,  —  would  that  every  human 
being  could  have  his  share  !  —  but  they  are  excellent 
only  as  diversions,  never  as  the  regular  business  of  life. 

To  those  who  are  not  destined  by  Fate  to  labor  for 
their  daily  bread,  let  me  say,  Do  not  be  disheartened. 
\_Laur/htev.'\     Bread  is  not  the  only  thing  worth  labor- 


INDUSTRY,    WEALTH,  HAPPIXESS.  179 

ing  for.  Though  you  may  be  possessed  of  millions, 
there  are  yet  objects  enough  in  life  to  call  forth  all 
your  powers  of  mind  and  body.  Nay,  it  is  in  your 
power  to  count  the  bounties  of  Fortune  among  your 
greatest  and  truest  blessings :  rightly  used,  almost 
nothing  else  will  so  broaden  your  field  of  noble  activi- 
ties. 

Archibald  Watson.  If  work  is  so  good  for  us,  I 
don't  see  why  it  was  made  so  disagreeable. 

Dr.  Dix.  Here  is  another  example  of  too  "wide  gen- 
eralizing. What  is  true  of  some  work  to  some  workers 
you  have  no  right  to  predicate  of  all  work  to  all  work- 
ers. Aversion  to  labor  is  a  frequent  but  not  a  universal 
feeling  ;  nor  is  it  normal  in  those  to  whom  Nature  has 
given  the  ability  to  labor.  The  beaver  shows  no  dislike 
for  his  laborious  task,  nor  the  ant,  nor  the  bee,  nor  the 
winged  nest-builders.  The  change  from  an  abnormal  to 
a  normal  condition  is  often  a  disagreeable  process,  as 
every  physician  knows.  Learning  to  like  labor  is  such 
a  process.  Strength  is  gained  only  by  overcoming  re- 
sistance :  if  we  had  not  always  had  gravity  to  overcome, 
none  of  us  would  have  the  strength  to  stand  erect 
against  it  to-day,  and  the  effort  to  do  so  would  have 
been  disagreeable.  There  is  no  greater  or  more  obsti- 
nate resistance  to  overcome  than  our  own  indolence  : 
Avhile  the  process  of  overcoming  it  continues,  all  kinds 
of  effort  are  disagreeable,  but  no  longer.  To  man  in  his 
normal  .condition  work  in  proper  amount  is  no  more  dis- 
agreeable than  to  the  beaver  or  to  the  bee.  On  the  con- 
trary, he  finds  in  it  his  keenest  pleasure ;  a  pleasure, 
too,  that,  unlike  the  pleasures  of  passive  indulgence, 
never  loses  its  zest  while  the  ability  to  labor  lasts. 

Frederick  Fox.  That  may  be  true  of  some  kinds  of 
work.  I  can  understand  how  the  artist  and  the  writer, 
who  are  gaining  fresh  laurels  with  every  new  achieve 
ment,  or  the  merchant  and  the  manufacturer,  who  are 
continually  adding   to  their  wealth,  may  enjoy  their 


180  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

labor.  But  how  can  the  man  who  does  the  same  thing 
day  after  day  for  each  day's  bread  help  finding  his  toil 
disagreeable  ?  Do  you  suppose  anybody  ever  did  enjoy 
his  daily  promenade  in  the  treadmill  ? 

D?'.  Dix.  Probably  not.  Certainly  not  when,  as  is 
too  often  true,  that  "  daily  promenade "  demands  all 
his  waking  hours.  But  those  are  not  the  conditions  of 
labor  brought  about  by  Nature's  beneficent  design.  We 
are  not  now  speaking  of  the  abuse  of  labor,  but  of  labor 
under  normal  conditions.  Under  such  conditions  its 
humblest  form  might  be  a  pleasure  as  well  as  a  benefit 
to  the  laborer.  Why  should  not  the  artisan  feel  the 
same  pride  and  enthusiasm  that  his  more  aristocratic 
kinsman,  the  artist,  feels  in  making  his  work  the  very 
best  possible  ?  That  is  the  feeling  of  every  man  who 
enjoys  his  labor,  —  the  artistic  impulse.  The  stone- 
cutter, for  instance,  may  take  the  same  kind  of  interest 
in  making  his  rough  ashlar  true  and  smooth  tliat  the 
sculptor  takes  in  moulding  the  exquisite  features  of  his 
Venus  or  of  his  Apollo  :  the  difference  is  only  in  degree. 
I  am  not  so  disposed  as  many  are  to  ridicule  the  cus- 
tom of  certain  people  in  comparatively  humble  employ- 
ments to  call  themselves  "  artists."  If  the  ambitious 
title  will  only  stimulate  them  .to  do  their  very  best  to 
raise  their  employments  to  the  dignity  of  arts,  so  much 
the  better  for  their  customers  as  well  as  for  themselves. 

Jonathan  Tower.     Would  you  include  bootblacks  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Why  not  ?  There  is  a  wide  range  of  skill 
in  the  blacking  of  boots,  from  that  which  covers  them 
with  a  coarse,  fibrous,  lustreless  paste  to  that  which 
changes  them  to  polished  ebony.  I  tell  you,  I  have 
seen  an  artistic  zeal  and  pride  in  his  work  in  a  shabby, 
grimy  little  street  Arab  which  would  have  redeemed 
many  an  ambitious  canvas  from  ignoble  failure. 

Surely  this  class  of  laborers  are  far  more  entitled  to 
respect  and  sympathy  than  their  opposites.  I  sincerely 
hope  no  one  among  you  will  ever  look  down  upon  his 


INDUSTRY,    WEALTH,  HAPPINESS.  181 

business,  however  humble  it  may  be  in  general  estima- 
tion. If  what  y»u  do  is  of  real  service  and  benefit  to 
any  fellow-creature,  your  position  in  life  is  immeasura- 
bly above  that  of  the  mere  pleasure-seeker,  though  he 
live  in  a  palace  and  wear  a  crown  of  diamonds  upon  his 
brow. 

Yes,  the  pen  and  the  pencil,  the  hammer  and  the 
needle,  even  the  pick  and  the  spade  are  more  honorable 
in  human  hands  than  the  jewelled  fan  or  the  gracefully 
brandished  walking-stick.  If  justice  were  done,  the 
idler,  whatever  his  station,  Avould  doff  his  hat  to  the 
humblest  laborer.  "  He  has  the  right  to  live  in  a  world 
that  is  better  for  his  living  in  it,"  he  would  reflect ;  "  he 
has  the  right  to  hold  up  his  head  in  the  proud  con- 
sciousness that  he  has  earned  the  coarse  bread  he  eats 
and  the  humble  clothes  he  wears.  But  what  of  me, 
■whose  only  use  in  life  is  to  consume  what  he  and  his 
fellow-toilers  have  produced  ? "  And  the  reflection 
should  impel  him,  in  deference  to  his  own  self-respect, 
to  be  no  longer  a  mere  parasite  on  human  industry. 


XXXIV. 
VOCATION,  VACATION,  AND  AVOCATION. 

Helen  Mar.  It  seems  to  me,  Dr.  Dix,  that  there  is 
more  complaint  nowadays  against  too  much  than  against 
too  little  industry.  Americans,  in  particular,  are  said 
to  work  too  hard  rather  than  not  hard  enough. 

Di'.  Dix.  Yes,  Miss  Mar,  there  is  wrong  and  ruin  in 
excess  as  well  as  in  deficiency.  *'  Drive  neither  too 
high  nor  too  low,"  was  the  sun-god's  advice  to  Phaeton. 
"  In  medio  tutissimus  ibis."  ^  It  is  not  enough  that  the 
engine  of  life  be  amply  supplied  with  steam ;  there 
must  be  a  wise  engineer  in  the  cab  to  turn  it  on  and 
shut  it  off  as  occasion  requires.  Without  him  the  en- 
gine will  either  not  move  or  it  will  rush  on  to  its  own 
destruction.  Activity  is  indispensable  to  health  and 
happiness  ;  but  it  must  be  regulated  by  wisdom  and 
conscience.     Alternate  labor  and  rest  is  nature's  law. 

Jonathan  Tower.  How  shall  we  know  when  we  have 
done  work  enough  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  It  will  not  be  difficult  to  decide.  The  pen- 
alties of  overwork  are  as  plain  as  are  those  of  idleness. 
Nature  is  a  faithful  sentinel,  and  she  gives  her  warn- 
ings with  no  uncertain  sound.  The  loss  of  cheerful- 
ness, of  elasticity,  the  growing  sense  of  weariness  which 
the  night's  broken  slumbers  do  not  dispel,  are  unmis- 
takable warnings.  If  these  are  not  heeded,  others  will 
come  which  must  be  heeded ;  if  rest  is  not  taken  as  a 
sweet  reward,  it  will  be  enforced  as  a  bitter  pvinishment. 

It  is  not  long  now,  scholars,  before  vacation.  The 
old-fashioned  advice  was,  not  to  lay  aside  your  books. 
^  Thou  wilt  go  safest  iu  the  middle  course. 


VOCATION,    VACATION,  AND  AVOCATION.     183 

Teachers  and  school  trustees  are  wiser  now.  "  Lay 
them  aside,"  we  say,  "  and  don't  touch  them  again  till 
vacation  is  over." 

But  that  does  not  mean,  Spend  your  days  in  utter 
idleness.  Many  students  make  that  unhappy  mistake. 
They  congratulate  themselves  on  having  finished,  for  a 
time,  their  mental  toil,  and  promise  themselves  the  lux- 
ury of  complete  mental  rest.  They  soon  find,  however, 
that  rest  is  a  luxury  only  while  it  is  rest.  As  soon  as 
the  faculties  have  fully  recovered  from  their  weariness, 
if  new  and  vigorous  employments  do  not  take  the  place 
of  the  labors  of  school,  they  find  that  rest  degenerates 
into  that  ennui  which  I  have  already  described  as  the 
permanent  curse  of  the  habitual  idler.  Nay,  they  find 
it  even  more  insupportable  than  the  habitual  idler  finds 
it,  for  inaction  is  in  any  degree  tolerable  only  to  powers 
which  are  torpid  by  nature  or  hj  habit. 

Jonathan  Tower.  Then  how  shall  we  spend  our  va- 
cations ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Spend  them  in  such  a  manner  as  to  give 
yourselves  the  maximum  of  rest,  health,  and  happiness, 
in  such  a  manner  as  best  to  fit  yourselves  for  the  faith- 
ful, vigorous  performance  of  the  next  year's  work. 
That  is  the  best  rule  I  can  give  you. 

Jonathan  Tower.     But  how  shall  we  do  that  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  In  different  ways,  according  to  circum- 
stances, opportunities,  tastes,  and  dispositions.  There 
are  few  definite  rules  I  can  give  you  that  will  fit  all 
cases.  To  those  who  are  not  actual  invalids  the  only 
true  rest  is  a  change  rather  than  a  cessation  of  action. 
To  the  healthy  mind  and  body  there  is  no  harder  work 
than  continued  inaction.  Each  day  nature  supplies  a 
certain  amount  of  nervous  energy,  which  demands  an 
outlet  in  some  direction.  If  it  does  not  find  that  outlet 
it  accumulates,  and  creates  a  growing  sense  of  uneasi- 
ness :  few  maladies  are  harder  to  bear  than  what  is 
known  as  the  Lazy  Man's  Dyspepsia. 


184  CHABACTEB  BUILDING. 

In  order  to  be  interesting  and  satisfying,  the  employ- 
ments of  vacation  need  to  be  systematized  as  well  as 
those  of  vocation.  To  depend  upon  the  caprices  of  each 
day  for  each  day's  occupations  will  do  well  enough  for 
a  while  ;  but  soon  the  question,  Well,  what  shall  we  do 
to-day  ?  becomes  the  dreaded  bugbear  of  each  successive 
morning.  Plan  for  yourselves,  then,  some  sort  of  sys- 
tematic employment  that  shall  take  a  good  part  of  your 
vacation.  It  matters  little  what  it  is,  so  long  as  it  is 
honest,  harmless,  interesting,  and  as  unlike  your  regu- 
lar work  as  you  can  make  it.  This  last  condition  is 
especially  important ;  —  your  vacation  employment 
should  be  literally  an  a-vocation,  a  call  away  from  your 
vocation.  Your  daily  instalment  of  nervous  energy  will 
then  neither  call  into  action  those  brain-cells  or  those 
muscles  which  are  already  exhausted,  nor  will  it  accu- 
mulate upon  and  congest  your  nerve  centres,  as  it  would 
do  in  complete  and  continued  idleness,  but  it  will  find  a 
safe  and  delightful  outlet  through  a  different  set  of 
brain-cells  or  a  different  set  of  muscles. 

Jonathan  Tower.  What  avocations  would  you  re- 
commend for  us  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Oh,  there  is  a  long  list.  Some  of  them 
Miss  Sawyer  has  already  mentioned.  I  believe  she  be- 
gan with 

READING. 

To  a  student,  reading  as  an  avocation  should  be  on 
subjects  different  from  those  he  is  studying  at  school. 
Should  it,  therefore,  involve  no  study  ?  V/e  will  sup- 
pose its  sole  purpose  is  to  give  rest  and  pleasure  to  the 
tired  brain.  What  a  delightful  sound  there  is  to  that 
well-worn  phrase,  "  Summer  Heading  "  !  What  charm- 
ing pictures  it  calls  up  of  luxurious  hammocks  on 
breezy  piazzas,  or  of  shady  nooks  beside  mountain  rivu- 
lets !  "  I  want  something  that  I  can  read  without  the 
least  effort,"  you  say  to  yourself  as  you  make  your  se- 


VOCATION,   VACATION,  AND  AVOCATION.     185 

lection,  "  something  that  -will  carry  me  along  by  its 
own  power."  And  so  you  gather  up  a  score,  more  or 
less,  of  the  freshest,  spiciest  novels,  and  nothing  else. 
Essays  you  abominate  ;  histories  you  eschew  utterly ; 
poems  are  a  little  better,  but  they  require  closer  atten- 
tion than  you  feel  like  giving  in  vacation  :  so  your  stock 
of  mental  pabulum  consists  entirely  of  literary  caramels 
and  comfits  and  bottles  of  literary  champagne,  with 
something  stronger  for  an  occasional  intellectual  ca- 
rouse. 

Now,  the  natural  and  desired  effect  of  healthful  rest 
is  to  invigorate,  to  render  brain  and  body  better  fitted 
for  labor ;  nay,  to  give  them  a  renewed  appetite  and 
relish  for  labor.  How  a  good  night's  sleep  sweetens 
that  which  the  night  before  was  a  dreary  task  !  Well, 
your  summer  vacation  is  over,  your  score,  more  or  less, 
of  novels  have  been  read,  and  you  resume  your  studies. 
How  much  do  you  find  your  mind  rested,  applying  the 
test  I  have  named  ?  how  much  keener  is  your  relish  for 
your  trigonometry  and  your  political  economy  than  it 
was  before  vacation  ? 

Helen  Saii'i/er.  I  have  done- almost  exactly  what  you 
have  described,  over  and  over  again,  and  I  don't  remem- 
ber that  my  school  studies  seemed  any  more  distasteful 
on  account  of  the  novels. 

Dr.  Dix.  Neither  you  nor  I  can  ever  know  how  they 
wouhl  have  seemed  to  you,  if  you  had  not  done  exactly 
what  I  described,  "  over  and  over  again."  Most  pupils 
perform  duties  at  school  cheerfully  that  they  could  not 
be  induced  to  perform  anywhere  else  ;  the  stimulus  of 
competition  carries  many  through ,,  studies  that  would 
otherwise  be  intolerably  distasteful.  Let  me  ask  you 
how  your  long  and  uninterrupted  courses  of  novel-read- 
ing have  affected  your  taste  for  other  kinds  of  reading  ? 
how  do  you  enjoy  an  elaborate  magazine  essay,  for  in- 
stance ?  how  do  you  like  McMaster's  United  States  or 
Macaulay's  England  ? 


186  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

Helen  Smcyer.  To  be  candid,  I  never  read  such 
things  :  I  have  history  enough  in  school,  and  magazine 
essays  are  generally  altogether  beyond  my  feeble  com- 
prehension. 

Z>r.  Dix.  Oh,  no,  Miss  Sawyer,  not  beyond  your 
comprehension,  for  you  easily  comprehend  things  here 
in  school,  quite  as  difficult  and  abstruse  as  anything  in 
the  average  magazine  article  ;  what  you  meant  to  say  is, 
that  they  are  beyond  your  inclination. 

Now  I  am  not  going  to  make  an  uncompromising  at- 
tack upon  novel-reading.  If  I  should  condemn  it  ut- 
terly I  should  only  exhibit  myself  as  a  narrow-minded 
bigot.  So  long  as  the  novel  keeps  its  place,  —  the  good 
novel,  I  mean,  —  it  is  one  of  the  very  best  things  in 
life.  It  is  only  when  it  usurps  the  place  of  other  kinds 
of  reading  that  it  becomes  a  positive  evil.  But  I  think 
I  am  not  extravagant  when  I  say  that,  with  the  average 
mind,  its  inevitable  tendency  is  to  usurp  the  place  of 
all  other  kinds  of  reading.  Almost  every  librarian  will 
tell  you  that  the  majority  of  his  readers  take  scarcely 
anything  but  novels. 

Helen  Sawyer.  Well,  suppose  what  the  librarians 
say  is  true,  —  do  not  their  readers  find  in  their  novels 
much  truth,  much  valuable  instruction,  especially  in  re- 
gard to  human  life,  motives,  and  character  ?  Is  it  not 
the  novelist's  peculiar  province  to  —  to  unveil  the  hu- 
man mind  and  heart  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes,  that  is,  or  should  be,  the  novelist's 
highest  aim.  If  fiction  were  generally  studied  by  the 
reader  as  well  as  by  the  writer  with  this  object  in  view, 
it  would  justly  take  its  place  high  among  the  fine  arts. 
There  are  such  writers  and  such  readers.  All  honor  to 
them.  It  is  not  of  these  that  I  complain,  but  of  those 
whose  motives  are  by  no  means  so  high  or  noble. 

Love  of  narrative  is  a  natural  passion,  and  should  be 
gratified  to  a  reasonable  and  healthful  extent ;  but  it  is 
a  passion,  the  keenness  of  which  is  easily  blunted  by 


VOCATION,    VACATION,  AND  AVOCATION.     187 

over-gratification.  In  the  normal  condition  of  the  mind 
the  simplest  narrative  of  actual  events,  or  of  events 
which  might  easily  be  actual,  is  interesting  enough  to 
carry  the  reader  or  the  listener  along  without  effort  on 
his  part.  But  the  trouble  is,  that  neither  the  average 
writer  nor  the  average  reader  of  fiction  is  satisfied,  with 
such  narratives  ;  so  the  passion  is  gratified  Avith  so 
highly  seasoned  material  that  it  no  longer  finds  pleasure 
in  the  simple  tales  of  nature  and  real  life.  The  jaded 
appetite  becomes  finally  too  feeble  to  tolerate  even  the 
fragments  of  essay  or  actual  history  which  are  thrown 
in  here  and  there  to  give  "  body  "  to  the  romance,  and 
they  are  impatiently  skipped  in  the  languid  desire  to 
see  "  how  the  story  is  coming  out."  I  can  liken  the 
mind  in  this  pitiable  condition  only  to  a  stomach  Avhich 
has  been  fed  so  long  on  confections,  spices,  and  worse 
stimulants  that  it  can  relish  only  the  strongest  of  these. 

Susan  Perkins.  Then  it  is  better  and  safer  to  avoid 
novels  altogether,  is  it  not  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  No,  indeed.  Miss  Perkins ;  everybody 
ought  ^to  read  some  fiction,  but  only  the  best.  Why, 
indeed,  should  any  but  the  best  ever  be  read  ?  There 
is  enough  for  all,  and  it  is  as  cheap  and  as  easily  ob- 
tained as  the  poorest.  AVhy  should  any  one  drink  of 
the  muddy,  stagnant  pool  when  the  clear,  sparkling 
spring  bubbles  just  beside  it  ? 

But  do  not  let  even  the  best  novels  get  the  mastery 
over  you.  The  moment  you  find  that  they  have  blunted 
the  keenness  of  your  relish  for  more  solid  reading  it  is 
time  for  your  "  vacation  "  in  reading  to  end  for  a  while. 


XXXV. 
CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS. 

Dr.  Dix.     Referring  again  to  Miss  Sawyer's  list  — 

Helen  Satvi/er.  Oh,  Dr.  Dix,  I  did  n't  intend  any- 
thing so  formidable  as  a  list.  If  I  had,  I  should  have 
given  it  in  alphabetical  order. 

Dr.  Dix.  Referring  again  to  Miss  SaAvyer's  casual 
remark,  we  find  travelling  mentioned  among  the  favor- 
ite occupations  of  those  who  are  privileged  to  do  as 
they  please.  We  may  include  it  among  our  summer 
avocations  ;  but,  mark  you,  it  must  be  travelling  with  a 
definite  object  in  view,  not  in  the  listless,  fruitless  way 
in  which  many  travel.  You  might  as  well  dawdle  away 
your  time  and  sigh  with  mental  dyspepsia  at  home  as 
in  a  palace-car.  Miss  Sawyer  mentioned  yachting  :  that 
must  also  have  a  definite  object ;  observe  that  no  one 
enjoj^s  this  avocation  or  profits  by  it  more  than  the  man 
who  sails  the  yacht.  Tennis  was  another  amusement 
she  named,  to  which  we  will  add  cricket,  base-ball,  and 
all  similar  games  ;  but  you  must  set  about  them  Avith 
an  energetic  determination  to  excel,  or  they  will  afford 
you  little  of  either  pleasure  or  profit.  Among  still 
other  avocations  I  will  mention  the  collection  of  min- 
erals, plants,  and  —  and  — 

Trumbull  Butters.     Postage  stamps  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes,  though  this  is  better  suited  to  a  me- 
chanic or  a  farm  laborer  than  to  a  student.  He  needs 
something  that  will  give  him  more  physical  exercise 
and  out-of-door  air. 

Charles  Fox.     Birds'  eggs  and  insects  ? 

Dr.  Dix.     I  was  about  to  mention  these.     I  hesitated 


CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS.  189 

for  a  moment  because  the  thought  of  them  suggested 
another  subject  of  which  I  wish  to  speak,  Cruelty  to 
Animals. 

In  the  collection  of  minerals  and  plants  there  is  noth- 
ing that  need  be  painful  to  the  most  tender  sensibility, 
though  I  heard  a  lady  once  say  she  never  pulled  a  beau- 
tiful flower  to  pieces  without  feeling  like  a  vandal. 
There  is  a  wide  difference  between  this  lady  and  the 
man  who  for  mere  sport  can  wantonly  destroy  the  most 
magnificent  animal  without  compunction.  Think  of  the 
heart  that  finds  one  of  its  keenest  enjoyments  in  the 
destruction  of  joyous,  beautiful  life !  It  has  been  ac- 
counted for,  and  it  can  be  accounted  for,  only  in  one 
way :  We  are  descended  from  a  race  of  cruel  savages, 
and  the  savagery  has  not  all  been  civilized  out  of  us. 

Josejjh  Cracklin.  "Would  you,  tlien,  forbid  all  hunt- 
ing, trapping,  and  fishing  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  For  mere  sport,  yes  :  for  food  or  other 
legitimate  uses  that  may  be  made  of  the  poor  mangled 
victims  of  man's  superior  strength,  skill,  or  cunning,  or 
for  defence  against  their  depredations,  no. 

Joseph  Cracldln.  But  would  you  thus  not  greatly  re- 
strict one  of  the  best  means  men  have  of  cultivating 
their  power,  skill,  and  manly  courage  and  hardihood  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  If  they  choose  they  can  find  plenty  of  other 
means  equally  good  of  cultivating  their  power  and  skill. 
It  takes  far  more  of  either  quality  to  study  successfully 
the  nature  and  habits  of  an  innocent  beast  or  bird,  to 
find  out  where  and  how  it  lives,  than  to  kill  it.  For 
my  own  part,  I  would  rather  hear  a  blackbird  or  a 
nightingale  sing  and  note  down  its  song  on  my  musical 
scale,  than  to  still  its  beautiful  voice  forever ;  to  watch 
it  as  it  preens  its  feathers,  than  to  ruffle  and  stain  them 
with  its  blood,  or  as  it  builds  its  nest,  than  to  leave  its 
tiny  architecture,  all  unfinished,  to  fall  into  ruin. 

As  to  "manly  courage  and  hardihood,"  it  takes  a 
wonderful  amount,  truly,  to  make  war  upon  harmless 


190  CHARACTER  BUILDING, 

creatures  whose  only  Avish  or  effort  is  to  escape  !  Think 
of  a  band  of  stalwart  heroes  armed  with  guns  and 
mounted  upon  fleet  horses,  with  an  auxiliary  force  of 
bloodthirsty  hounds,  all  in  courageous  pursuit  of  one 
little  terror-stricken  fox  !  What  pseans  of  victory  should 
welcome  their  return  with  their  formidable  antagonist 
defeated  and  slain ! 

"See,  the  conquering  heroes  come  ! 
Sound  the  trumpet,  beat  the  drum  !  " 

Joseph  Cracklin.  I  never  looked  at  it  in  that  light 
before  :  it  does  seem  rather  unfair  to  the  fox,  to  be 
sure. 

Dr.  Dix.  Unfair !  I  can  admire  the  heroes  of  a  lion 
or  of  a  tiger  hunt  as  enthusiastically  as  any  one,  but  I 
confess  I  cannot  sound  my  trumpet  nor  beat  my  drum 
very  loudly  in  honor  of  the  heroes  of  a  fox  hunt. 

Joseph  Cracklin.  But  they  don't  boast  of  their  cour- 
age in  attacking  and  killing  the  animal ;  they  think 
only  of  their  skill  in  the  chase  —  they  don't  think  of 
the  animal  at  all. 

Dr.  Dix.  You  mean,  they  don't  think  of  the  odds 
between  them  and  their  victim  ? 

Joseph  Cracklin.     Yes,  Dr.  Dix  ;  that 's  what  I  mean. 

Dr.  Dix.  Because  it  is  only  an  animal,  and  because 
the  odds  is  so  enormous  that  it  eludes  thought  alto- 
gether. They  would  scorn  to  try  their  prowess  Avith 
an  inferior  human  antagonist,  and  the  greater  the  dis- 
parity the  greater  they  would  deem  their  cowardice  in 
such  a  trial.  If  we  see  a  great,  strong  man  abusing  a 
defenceless  child,  our  hearts  swell  with  indignation  and 
contempt ;  but  if  it  be  a  creature  a  thousand  times 
feebler  and  more  defenceless  than  the  child,  he  may 
abuse  it  or  kill  it  at  pleasure,  with  little  or  no  imputa- 
tion u.pon  his  manliness  or  chivalry. 

Henry  Phillips.  But,  Dr.  Dix,  it  is  simply  impossi- 
ble to  look  upon  human  beings  and  animals  in  the  same 
light. 


CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS.  191 

Dr.  Dix.  I  admit  it.  I  admit  that  it  is  better  that 
an  animal  should  suffer  pain  and  death  rather  than  that 
a  human  being  should  suffer  pain.  I  go  still  further  : 
If  the  death  of  an  animal  can  really  benefit  a  human 
being,  it  is  right  that  the  animal  should  die.  I  do  not 
admit,  however,  that  it  is  right  to  take  harmless  lives, 
simply  to  gratify  a  cruel  love  of  sport,  or  to  gratify  a 
still  more  cruel  vanity  —  whether  it  be  to  adorn  a  lady's 
bonnet  or  an  Indian's  belt. 

Jane  Simpson.  Oh,  Dr.  Dix,  do  you  comj^are  the 
birds  on  a  lady's  bonnet  to  scalps  taken  by  a  savage  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  To  my  mind  there  are  striking  points  of 
resemblance  :  both  are  the  trophies  of  a  cruel  warfare, 
—  though  in  one  case  the  fighting  is  entirely  on  one 
side,  the  slaughter  entirely  on  the  other,  —  both  are  the 
ornaments  of  hideous  death. 

Jane  Simj^son.  Ugh  !  I  will  never  wear  a  bird  on 
my  bonnet  again. 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.  But  what  of  killing  birds  for  nat- 
ural history  collections  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  As  the  design  of  that  is  to  benefit  human 
beings  by  affording  them  better  opportunities  of  study- 
ing nature,  I  have  already  expressed  my  opinion  upon 
it.  For  the  same  reason,  you  remember,  I  began  by  ap- 
proving of  the  collection  of  birds'  eggs  and  insects. 
But  even  this  should  not  be  done  at  the  sacrifice  of  our 
humane  sensibilities.  Let  the  death  of  the  poor  mar- 
tyrs to  our  needs  and  conveniences  be  as  nearly  painless 
as  possible ;  and,  above  all,  do  not  waste  the  lives  so 
precious  to  them.  Do  not  rob  the  nest  of  all  its  store  ; 
do  not  leave  the  tiny  mother's  tiny  home  utterly  des- 
olate. 

Archibald  Watson.  I  suppose  there's  no  need  of 
being  careful  about  wasting  the  precious  lives  of  insects 
injurious  to  vegetation. 

Dr.  Dix.  That  topic  has  already  been  disposed  of, 
since  their  destruction  is  beneficial  to  man. 


192  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

Lives  so  precious  to  them,  I  said.  Did  you  ever 
think  when  you  thoughtlessly  crushed  the  lite  out  of 
some  harmless  little  creature,  that  you  had  in  an  in- 
stant destroyed  what  the  combined  skill  of  all  mankind 
could  not  restore  ?  that  you  had  wantonly  taken  away 
one  happy  being's  whole  share  in  the  universe  of  be- 
ing? Think  how  bountiful  Nature  has  been  to  you, 
and  how  niggardly  to  your  victim.  Could  you  not,  with 
your  thousands  of  herds,  have  left  it  its  one  ewe  lamb  ? 

If  it  is  cowardly  to  treat  an  inferior  with  cruelty,  why 
should  not  the  cowardice  be  estimated  in  proportion  to 
the  degree  of  the  inferiority  ?  You  say,  we  cannot  look 
upon  the  human  and  the  brute  creation  in  the  same 
light.  This,  in  general,  I  have  admitted.  But  pain  is 
pain  and  death  is  death,  whoever  or  whatever  suffers 
them.  The  man  or  the  boy  who  can  inflict  torture  upon 
a  dumb  animal  without  a  stirring  of  pity  in  his  heart 
is  not  likely  to  be  very  tender  of  any  suffering  but  his 
own. 

The  timidity  of  the  animal  creation  is  a  constant  re- 
proach to  man.  The  wild  deer  spies  him  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  scours  away  in  terror :  birds  that  alight  fear- 
lessly upon  the  broad  backs  of  the  buffalo  dart  away 
at  man's  approach,  while  their  shaggy  steeds  plunge 
headlong  over  the  precipice  in  their  mad  attempt  to 
escape. 

It  need  not  have  been  so.  It  is  pathetic  to  witness 
the  affection  with  which  creatures  so  often  maltreated 
return  kindness.  The  Arab's  steed  loves  his  master 
with  almost  the  love  of  a  child  for  its  father ;  the  dog's 
affection  for  his  master  is  entirely  unselfish ;  birds  can 
be  tamed  so  that  they  will  feed  from  your  hand. 

Louisa  TJiompson.  Alexander  Selkirk  in  his  solitude 
laments  that  the  beasts  that  roam  over  the  plain 

"  Are  so  nnacquainted  with  man, 
Their  tameness  is  shocking  to  me." 

Dr.  Dix.     And  shocking  it  should  be  to  any  humane 


CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS.  193 

heart,  but  not  for  the  purely  selfish  reason  which  made 
it  so  to  him. 

It  is  well  for  us  that  there  is  no  race  on  earth  for 
whose  sole  benefit  we  ourselves  are  supposed  to  have 
been  created.  Who  knows  what  there  may  be  in  future 
ages  ?  Science  has  shown  that  we  have  been  evolved 
from  this  same  inferior  creation  that  we  sacrifice  so 
ruthlessly  to  our  needs  and  pleasures :  John  Fiske  to 
the  contrary  notwithstanding,  who  knows  positively 
that  there  may  not  be  evolved  from  us  an  angelic  race 
as  far  above  us  as  we  are  above  the  anthropoid  apes  — 
in  all  respects  save  the  sense  of  what  is  due  to  infe- 
riors ? 

Imagine  these  glorious  beings  hunting,  wounding, 
and  slaying  us  for  the  sake  of  angelic  "  sport,"  and  for 
the  sake  of  cultivating  their  strength,  skill,  and  angelic 
courage  and  hardihood !  Imagine  them  harnessing  us 
into  their  chariots ;  peeling  the  skin  from  our  tongues 
and  setting  our  teeth  into  agony  with  icy  bits ;  strap- 
ping our  heads  back  till  our  necks  ache  beyond  endur- 
ance, to  make  us  look  spirited ;  blinding  our  eyes  lest 
we  should  notice  things  by  the  way  too  curiously ;  and 
then,  perhaps,  driving  us  until  we  drop  dead  Avith  ex- 
haustion. Imagine  them  forgetting  us  in  our  cages  and 
letting  us  die  of  cruel  hunger  and  still  more  cruel  thirst, 
or  leaving  us  to  languish  in  uuTisited  traps  and  snares  ; 
transporting  us  thousands  of  miles  so  closely  packed 
together  that  we  can  neither  stand,  sit,  nor  lie  without 
pain,  and  neglecting  to  give  us  food  or  drink  because  it 
would  take  too  much  time  and  trouble ;  destroying  our 
fair-haired  women  by  the  thousands  for  the  sake  of 
their  tresses  to  adorn  their  angelic  bonnets  withal ;  col- 
lecting us  for  natural  history  museums  and  biological 
lectures.  In  short,  imagine  them  inflicting  upon  us 
any  of  the  myriad  torments  we  so  thoughtlessly  and 
heartlessly  inflict  upon  the  unfortunate  inferiors  that 
Fate  has  thrown  upon  our  mercy.     Then,  in  fine,  sup- 


194  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

pose  we  sliould  liear  thera  justify  their  cruelty  with  the 
plea  :  "  They  are  only  men,  and  it  is  impossible  to  look 
upon  men  and  angels  in  the  same  light ! 

Florence  Hill.  But  such  things  would  not  be  possible 
with  such  a  race  of  beings ;  they  would  be  as  superior 
to  men  in  kindness  to  their  inferiors  as  they  were  in  all 
other  respects. 

Dr.  Dix.  You  are  right,  Miss  Hill.  I  supposed  the 
exception  only  for  the  sake  of  helping  us  to  see  our- 
selves as  others  —  angels,  for  instance  —  might  see  us. 
Such  a  race  as  I  have  imagined  may  never  exist  on  earth, 
but  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  Coming  Man  will  be  greatly 
superior  to  the  present  representatives  of  the  race  in 
kindness  of  heart  as  well  as  in  all  other  respects  ;  and 
I  believe  that  he  will  look  back  upon  the  atrocities  of 
this  age,  those  inflicted  upon  animals  among  the  rest, 
as  we  look  back  upon  the  gladiatorial  shows  of  ancient 
Kome  or  the  torture  of  prisoners  in  ancient  Carthage. 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.  Dr.  Dix,  all  people  are  not  cruel 
to  animals.  There  are  some  who  seem  to  think  more 
of  them  than  they  do  of  human  beings.  I  have  seen 
ladies  take  better  care  of  a  snarling  little  puppy  than 
they  ^vould  ever  think  of  taking  of  a  baby. 

Josejih  Cracklin.  And  I  have  seen  girls  pet  a  kitten 
while  they  were  making  mouths  at  their  brothers. 

Helen  Sawyer  [jjromptly'].  That  is  because  kittens 
always  behave  so  much  better  than  brothers  do  !  \_Laugh- 
ter.'] 

Jpseph  Cracklin.  While  sisters  are  always  such  pat- 
terns of  gentleness,  patience,  and  sweet  — 

Dr.  Dix.     The  time  to  close  our  discussion  has  come. 


XXXVI. 

CHARITY. 

Dr.  Dix.  In  our  last  Talk  we  spoke  of  our  duties  to 
the  lower  animals :  let  us  now  return  to  our  duties  to 
our  own  race.  We  may  dispose  of  Jenkins's  remark, 
that  some  people  think  more  of  animals  than  of  human 
beings,  with  the  reflection  that  such  sentiments  can 
awaken  only  pity  or  disgust  in  any  well-regulated  mind. 
What  should  be  our  feelings  and  conduct  towards  our 
fellow-men,  particularly  those  who  need  our  sympathy 
and  help,  will  be  our  subject  this  morning. 

I  said  awhile  ago  that  no  life  is  more  certain  to  fail 
in  its  object  than  that  one  which  is  devoted  to  selfish 
pleasure-seeking.  The  rule  extends  to  all  self-seeking 
of  whatever  k,ind.  The  purely  selfish  man  may  gain  all 
he  strives  for :  wealth,  power,  learning,  fame,  idle  amuse- 
ment, —  all  save  the  one  thing  that  he  most  ardently 
desires,  and  to  which  all  the  rest  are  sought  as  merely 
stepping-stones  —  happiness. 

Now  how  shall  hapj^iness  be  obtained  ?  It  has  been 
defined  as  that  condition  in  which  all  the  functions 
of  mind  and  body  are  in  perfectly  harmonious  action, 
• —  perfect  harmony  with  their  environment.  It  is  not 
probable  that  such  a  condition  has  ever  yet  been  attained 
in  this  world,  but  the  nearest  approach  to  it  has  been 
where  to  a  healthy  body  and  mind  has  been  joined  a 
heart  so  filled  with  love  for  fellow-men  that  it  has  had 
little  or  no  thought  for  self.  For,  scholars,  Happiness 
comes  to  us  most  readily  when  she  is  not  sought  for  her 
own  sake.  She  is  beautiful  and  sweet,  but  she  is  an 
arrant  coquette.  "  Pursue  her,"  says  an  old  proverb, 
"  and  she  will  flee  ;  avoid  her,  and  she  will  pursue." 


196  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

But  the  selfish  man  will  not  believe  this.  Day  by  day, 
and  year  by  year,  he  goes  on  straining  all  his  energies 
for  that  which  is  designed  to  benefit  only  himself  ;  and 
with  each  successive  triumph  comes  disappointment, 
astonishment,  that  the  happiness  he  so  fondly  expected 
does  not  follow.  He  concludes,  at  length,  that  what- 
ever satisfaction  there  is  in  life  comes  in  the  process  of 
acquiring  and  not  in  the  acquisition  itself,  and  so  —  he 
goes  on,  still  striving. 

But  he  makes  a  fatal  mistake.  There  is  a  satisfaction 
far  greater  than  that  of  the  mightiest  and  most  success- 
ful struggle  for  self, — a  satisfaction,  too,  which  does 
not  end  with  success,  but  goes  on  ever  increasing. 

It  would  be  well  for  him  if  the  three  spirits  that 
visited  Scrooge  on  that  famous  Christmas  night  would 
visit  him  also.  Then,  when  he  had  seen  how  much 
wretchedness  there  is  in  this  sad  world  that  he  might 
relieve,  how  many  bitter  tears  that  he  might  dry,  how 
many  heavy  hearts  that  he  might  cheer,  perhaps  he 
could  taste  the  happiness  which  all  his  years  of  labor 
and  of  triumph  cannot  bestow.  Instead  of  feeling  a 
dead  weight  of  discontent,  of  unsatisfied  longing  for  he 
knows  not  what,  forever  pressing  down  upon  his  heart, 
he  might  cry,  like  the  transformed  Scrooge,  laughing 
and  crying  in  the  same  breath,  — 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  do  !  I  am  as  light  as  a  feather, 
I  am  as  happy  as  an  angel,  I  am  as  merry  as  a  school- 
boy, I  am  as  giddy  as  a  drunken  man.  A  merry  Christ- 
mas to  everybody!  A  happy  New  Year  to  all  the 
world !     Hallo,  here  !    Whoop  !     Hallo  ! " 

George  Williams.  Scrooge  was  a  rich  man  :  he  had 
it  in  his  power  to  do  all  those  benevolent  deeds.  But 
if  happiness  depends  on  that  sort  of  thing,  there  was  n't 
much  chance  for  the  poor  people  he  helped  ;  and  he 
could  n't  have  succeeded  in  making  them  really  happy, 
after  all,  however  comfortable  he  may  have  made  them. 
Dr.  Dix.     Ah,   Williams,  giving  money  is    not  the 


CHARITY.  197 

only  way  to  benefit  our  fellow-men,  A  kind  word,  a 
cheery  smile,  has  many  times  lightened  a  sorrow-laden 
heart  as  money  could  not  have  lightened  it ;  and  none 
of  us  are  so  poor  that  we  cannot,  now  and  then,  give  a 
crust  of  bread,  a  cup  of  cold  water,  or  a  helping  hand 
to  those  in  need.  The  giving  of  money,  indeed,  often 
does  more  harm  than  good.  The  careless  rich,  who  sat- 
isfy their  pride  and  their  consciences  by  the  indiscrimi- 
nate scattering  of  their  bounty,  are  responsible  for  most 
of  the  culpable  pauperism  in  the  world.  To  give  to  a 
lazy,  shiftless  man  is  only  to  defeat  the  beneficent  pur- 
pose of  Nature  and  Fortune,  which  is  to  force  him  by 
the  stern  discipline  of  necessity  to  use  the  energies  they 
have  given  him.  To  feed  his  laziness  and  shiftlessness 
is  little  better  than  to  give  strong  drink  to  the  drunkard 
or  laudanum  to  the  opium  slave.  The  only  help  which 
those  who  are  wise  and  really  sincere  in  their  benevo- 
lence will  vouchsafe  such  a  man  is  encouragement  and 
assistance  to  help  himself. 

This  is  the  best  work  of  the  great  charitable  organiza- 
tions which  do  so  much  to  distinguish  our  age  from  the 
cruel  past. 

Frederick  Fox.  I  have  heard  bitter  complaints  against 
charitable  organizations  :  that  a  great  deal  of  the  money 
given  them  is  spent  in  fat  salaries  to  officials  and  in 
useless  decoration  and  printing,  but  especially  that  there 
is  so  much  red  tape  about  their  operations  that  those 
who  are  actually  most  in  need  of  their  aid  do  not  know 
how  to  set  to  work  to  get  it,  and,  even  if  they  did  know, 
would  have  neither  the  time  nor  the  energy  to  go 
through  with  the  necessary  preliminaries. 

Dr.  Dix.  AVhile  there  is  probably  some  foundation 
for  such  complaints,  you  must  bear  in  mind  that  there 
is  nothing  many  people  enjoy  so  much  as  fault-finding, 
and  generally  those  who  know  the  least  of  what  they 
are  talking  about  are  the  most  severe  in  their  criticism. 
Most  frequently,  I   suspect,  their   criticisms  are   pro- 


198  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

iiounced  merely  as  the  most  effective  way  of  saving 
their  own  money. 

I  have  taken  some  pains  to  inquire  into  the  methods 
of  several  of  the  best  known  charitable  associations,  and 
I  have  yet  to  find  an  official  overpaid.  On  the  contrary, 
most  of  them  fill  their  offices  at  an  actual  personal  sac- 
rifice. I  have  found  no  useless  decoration,  and  as  to 
printing,  every  business  man  knows  how  essential  that 
is  to  the  efficiency  of  any  enterprise,  whether  charitable 
or  otherwise.  The  "  red  tape  "  you  speak  of  is  not  an 
unmitigated  evil.  I  do  not  think  there  is  generally  any 
more  than  is  necessary  to  prevent  imposture.  It  is  well, 
too,  that  helj)  should  not  be  obtained  too  easily,  so  long 
as  it  comes  in  time  to  those  in  actual  need. 

Florence  Hill.  But  how  maliy  thousands  there  are  in 
the  sorest  need,  to  whom  it  never  comes  ! 

Br.  Dix.  Alas,  yes.  If  those  who  are  so  liberal  with 
their  complaints  and  criticisms  would  be  but  half  as 
liberal  with  their  help,  they  would  find  far  less  to  com- 
plain of  and  criticise.  Scolding  is  not  the  best  way  to 
correct  abuses,  scholars. 

Let  me  now  make  a  practical  suggestion  to  you : 
Whether  you  ever  become  active  working  members  of 
such  associations  or  not,  at  least  inform  yourselves 
thoroughly  in  regard  to  their  methods  and  the  steps 
necessary  to  secure  their  aid,  so  that  when  a  case  of 
need  comes  to  your  knowledge  you  may  know  exactly 
what  to  do,  and  how  to  do  it  in  the  best  and  quickest 
way.  And,  let  me  add  by  the  way,  do  not  wait  for  such 
cases  to  come  to  your  knowledge  accidentally.  Seek 
them  out.  None  of  you  will  be  too  busy  in  your  own 
behalf  or  in  that  of  those  dependent  upon  you  to  do  an 
occasional  act  of  kindness  of  this  sort.  Do  it,  not  for 
the  sure  reward  of  happiness  it  will  bring  you,  espe- 
cially on  your  last  day,  but  for  the  love  you  bear  your 
suffering  brother  or  sister. 


'^ 


XXXVII. 
WITH  HAND  AND   HEART. 

Dr.  Dix.  Do  your  kindnesses,  I  said  last  Wednesday, 
with  your  heart  as  well  as  with  your  hand.  This  morn- 
ing I  say,  Do  them  with  your  hand  as  well  as  with  your 
heart.  The  seed  that  germinates,  but  never  sends  its 
shoots  into  the  sunlight,  is  no  better  than  a  stone  ; 
the  plant  that  puts  forth  leaves,  but  neither  flower  nor 
fruit,  is  little  better. 

Jane  Simpso7i.  But  did  n't  you  say,  a  kind  word,  a 
cheery  smile,  often  do  more  good  than  more  substantial 
gifts  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  And  so  they  do.  They  are  the  flowers  of 
kindness,  and  flowers  are  sometimes  more  needed  than 
fruit.  Did  you  never  see  a  beautiful,  fresh  bouquet 
brighten  the  eyes  of  a  weary  invalid  as  the  choicest 
viands  would  not  have  brightened  them  ?  I  have,  and 
I  have  seen  a  ragged  child  in  the  city  laugh  with  de- 
light over  a  poor  little  nosegay,  who  would  have  pock- 
eted your  dime  with  scarcely  a  "  thank  ye,  sir." 

Liicij  Snow.    And  what  are  the  leaves  of  kindness  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Oh,  they  are  merely  Talks  about  kindness. 
All  that  we  say  here,  if  it  results  in  neither  a  kind  word 
and  a  cheery  smile  to  those  more  in  need  of  them  than 
of  the  helping  hand,  nor  in  both  the  kind  word  and  the 
helping  hand  to  those  in  need  of  both,  is  "nothing  but 
leaves,  nothing  but  leaves." 

Helen  Mar.  And  the  germinating  seed  that  never 
reaches  the  sunlight  is,  I  suppose,  the  mere  thought  of 
kindness  in  the  heart  that  never  finds  expression  either 
in  words  or  deeds  ? 


200  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

Dr.  Dlx.  Precisely.  But  let  us  not  run  our  figure 
into  the  ground,  —  I  refer  to  the  figure,  not  the  seed. 
\_Lauf/hter.^ 

Do  your  kindnesses  with  your  hand  as  well  as  with 
your  heart :  do  not  be  satisfied  with  unspoken  impulses, 
nor  yet  with  eloquent  panegyrics  on  the  beauty  and 
the  nobility  of  benevolence. 

Florence  Hill.  If  the  hand  does  not  obey  the  impulse 
of  the  heart,  is  there  not  good  reason  for  suspecting  the 
genuineness  of  the  impulse  ? 

X>r.  Dlx.  There  is,  indeed.  A  great  deal  of  such  im- 
pulse that  is  taken  for  real  benevolence,  especially  by 
the  subject  himself,  is  but  the  flimsiest  kind  of  senti- 
mentalism.  Oh,  what  a  vast  amount  of  it  there  is  ! 
what  floods  of  tears  are  shed  over  the  romantic  sorrows 
of  fair  creatures  that  never  breathed,  by  readers  who 
can  hear  of  real  living  distress  without  a  tinge  of  pity ! 
what  heart-throbs  and  suppressed  sighs  over  the  pictur- 
esque woes  of  the  stage  heroine  in  her  velvet,  satin,  and 
jewels,  — heart-throbs  and  sighs  which  even  the  know- 
ledge that  the  persecuted  fair  one  gets  her  thousand 
dollars  a  night  cannot  mitigate ! 

Helen  Mar.  Such  grief  seems  absurd  enough  when 
we  think  of  it  coolly,  and  yet  I  can't  think  it  is  entirely 
heartless.  Only  those  whose  imaginations  are  vivid 
enough  to  make  the  scenes  read  and  witnessed  a  reality 
for  the  time  being,  can  feel  it.  To  them  the  suffering 
is  real  suffering,  so  the  pity  they  feel  and  the  tears  they 
shed  —  their  sighs  and  their  heart-throbs  —  are  genuine 
after  all. 

Dr.  Dlx.  Don't  lay  too  much  stress  on  the  reality. 
Miss  Mar.  Eeality  would  lead  genuine  feeling  to  some 
sort  of  action,  whereas  the  most  remote  notion  of  being 
anything  more  than  a  passive  spectator,  whatever  out- 
rages are  perpetrated,  never  enters  the  most  lively  im- 
agination of  the  theatre-goer  or  the  novel -reader. 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.     I  never  heard  of  but  one  man  to 


WITH  HAND  AND  HEART.  201 

whom  tlie  persecuted  stage  heroine  was  a  bona  fide 
reality. 

Dr.  Dix.  Well,  you  may  tell  us  about  him,  if  it  will 
not  take  too  long. 

Geoff  re  1/  Jenkins.  He  was  a  big-hearted,  chivalrous 
Irishman  who,  when  he  could  restrain  his  outraged 
feelings  no  longer,  stood  up  in  his  seat  in  the  gallery, 
shook  a  most  formidable  fist,  and  shouted  at  the  top  of 
his  voice,  "  Av  ye  don't  lave  her  alone,  ye  currly-headed, 
murtherin'  thafe  o'  the  wurruld,  I  '11  — "  But  before  he 
could  pronounce  the  "  murtheriu'  thafe's  "  doom  he  was 
summarily  repressed. 

Dr.  Dix.     There  was  heart  and  hand,  surely. 

Archibald  Watson.     Or  rather,  heart  and^sif. 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes,  and,  I  remember,  I  made  a  distinction. 
No  one  could  doubt  the  genuineness  of  his  impulse. 
Whether  Jenkins's  story  is  true  or  not,  it  illustrates 
more  forcibly  than  anything  I  could  say  the  shallowness 
of  sentimental  emotions.  The  natural  outbreak  of  a 
heart  whose  warmth  and  strength,  unimpaired  by  artifi- 
cial excitement,  overmastered  its  owner's  judgment  and 
reason,  was  simply  ridiculous  to  his  fellow  spectators, 
who  neither  felt  nor  wished  to  feel  more  than  the  hol- 
low semblance  of  his  emotion. 

There  is  a  certain  amount  of  sentimentalism  in  nearly 
all  of  us.  Something  of  the  theatrical  or,  at  least,  of 
the  dramatic  is  needed  to  arouse  our  hearts  to  lively 
emotion.  We  read  in  our  morning  paper  of  a  great  rail- 
way disaster.  If  the  reporter  is  a  plain  statistician, 
without  imagination  or  power  of  word-picturing,  how 
many  of  us  feel  more  than  a  momentary  thrill  of  horror  ? 
how  many  feel  even  that  strongly  ?  But  let  the  story 
of  one  of  the  sufferers  be  skilfully  told,  and  we  lavish 
upon  him  the  sympathy  that  we  withhold  from  the 
many.  Xay,  let  the  story  of  suffering  that  we  know 
was  never  endured  be  told  with  sufficient  dramatic 
power,  and  it  will  arouse  emotions,  perhaps  tears,  that 


202  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

not  even  Waterloo  or  Gettysburg  has  ever  brought 
to  us. 

Louisa  Thompson.  But  the  vivid  emotion  is  only 
momentary,  while  the  other  is  lasting. 

Dr.  Dix.     What  there  is  of  it. 

Louisa  Thompson.  Even  if  there  is  not  much  of  it, 
do  you  think  it  necessarily  implies  heartlessness  ?  We 
cannot  feel  until  we  realize.  The  reality  is  too  much 
for  us ;  we  cannot  feel  it  because  we  cannot  compre- 
hend it. 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes,  all  that  is  true.  But  full  realization 
does  not  always  bring  the  emotions  that  are  due,  that 
would  arise  in  a  heart  in  its  normal  condition.  I  have 
heard  the  most  eloquent  pity  poured  out  for  a  beggar- 
girl  in  a  painting  froln  people  who  I  know  would  never 
notice  the  original. 

What  I  wish  to  impress  upon  you  is  that  mere  emo- 
tionj  it  matters  not  how  vivid,  does  not  necessarily  imply 
real  goodness  of  heart,  nor  on  the  other  hand  does  the 
absence  of  vivid  emotion  imply  a  want  of  goodness  of 
heart.  We  see  this  principle  illustrated  every  day.  It  is 
not  real  distress  that  affects  people  of  shallow  emotional 
natures,  but  the  pathetic  manifestation  of  distress,  par- 
ticularly if  that  manifestation  is  graceful  and  pleasing, 
a  beautiful  sorrow  in  the  eye  or  a  mournful  music  in  the 
voice.  Literary,  dramatic,  or  musical  pathos  is  the  only 
pathos  that  will  move  them,  whether  in  fiction,  on  the 
stage,  or  in  real  life.  It  follows  that  there  must  be 
nothing  in  the  distress  too  disagreeable  to  witness,  — 
nothing  decidedly  repulsive  :  the  filth  and  squalor  so 
often  inseparable  from  it  are  utterly  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. 

In  short,  the  chief  concern  is  not  so  much  for  the 
sufferer  as  for  self. 

''  I  cannot  visit  the  homes  of  the  extremely  poor," 
says  one  of  these  tender  creatures  ;  "  my  sympathies 
are  too  strong,  —  and  as  to  hospitals,  how  any  one  with 


WITH  HAND  AND  HEART.  203 

a  heart  can  bear  to  enter  them,  I  c?ainot  understand.'' 
And  so  the  extremely  poor  might  suffer  on,  the  hospital 
patient  might  languish  uncheered  and  unnursed,  with- 
out disturbing  his  equanimity,  so  long  as  they  remained 
out  of  his  sight  and  hearing.  I  have  heard  a  man  boast, 
as  if  he  thought  it  was  really  creditable  to  his  good 
heart,  that  he  always  got  away  from  a  crowd  assembled 
around  an  object  in  the  street  as  quickly  as  possible,  for 
fear  it  might  be  somebody  killed  or  badly  hurt. 

Joseph  Cracklln.  Would  he  show  a  better  heart  if  he 
should  elbow  his  way  through  the  crowd  and  stand  like 
them  staring  at  the  man  that  was  killed  or  hurt,  just  out 
of  curiosity  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  That  there  are  lower  depths  of  cruelty  and 
selfishness  than  his  own  does  not  imply  that  he  is  not 
cruel  and  selfish.  There  are  still  lower  depths  than 
that  to  which  probably  any  one  in  that  crowd  has  sunk. 
People  have  lived  who  would  not  only  gaze  with  pleas- 
ure upon  suffering  and  death,  but  would,  if  permitted, 
help  them  along,  as  boys  throw  fuel  upon  a  bonfire. 
The  utmost  that  the  man  I  spoke  of  can  claim  is  neutral- 
ity to  the  suffering  of  others  and  tender  consideration 
of  his  own  sensitive  feelings.  He  can  claim  no  positive 
goodheartedness  until,  at  the  sacrifice  of  feeling,  he  has 
offered  his  help,  or  has  learned  that  no  help  is  needed. 

It  is  good  to  feel  the  heart  swell  with  tender  sym- 
pathy for  the  pain  of  others,  it  is  good  to  express  ten- 
der sympathy  in  well-chosen  and  effective  words,  but 
it  is  better  —  oh,  immensely  better  —  to  do  that  which 
will  help  to  relieve  that  pain. 

Do  your  kindnesses,  then,  w4th  hand  as  well  as  with 
heart.  Son,  do  not  merely  pity  your  anxious  father,  so 
sorely  beset  in  the  battle  of  life  :  stand  by  his  side 
when  he  needs  you  most,  and  fight  the  battle  with  him. 
Daughter,  Avhen  your  sympathetic  heart  is  touched  by 
your  overburdened  mother's  pale  face  and  drooping  fig- 
ure, do  not  be  satisfied  with  embracing  her  and  pouring 


204  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

forth  a  wordy  flood  of  pity  and  affectionate  remon- 
strance, and  then  leaving  your  '*  cold-liearted,"  undemon- 
strative sister  the  humdrum  task  of  actually  lightening 
your  poor  mother's  burden.  Take  hold  bravely  and 
help  her  with  your  own  fair  hands.  Never  mind  if  the 
strain  on  your  long  cherished  selfishness  and  love  of 
ease  is  a  little  severe  at  first,  persevere ;  it  will  do  you 
good  as  well  as  her  —  though  heaven  forbid  that  this 
should  be  your  prevailing  motive  —  and  you  will  find 
the  strain  grow  less  and  less,  until  what  was  at  first  an 
irksome  task  will  become  one  of  your  purest  pleasures. 


XXXVIII. 
POLITENESS. 

Dr.  Dix.  We  cannot  finish  onr  Talks  on  Benevolence 
without  some  mention  of  Politeness,  which  may  be  de- 
fined as  Benevolence  in  Little  Things.  'The  polite  man 
desires  that  everybody  around  him  should  be  at  ease, 
and  by  being  at  ease  himself,  he  does  what  he  can  to 
bring  about  that  result.  He  is  polished,  he  has  no 
rough  surfaces  to  rasp  those  with  whom  he  comes  in 
contact,  no  sharp  corners  nor  edges  to  push  into  or  cut 
into  them. 

Xow,  as  a  rule,  we  find  the  greatest  development  of 
politeness,  or  at  least  polish,  where  people  are  most 
thickly  congregated  together  :  hence  our  words  urbane, 
from  the  Latin  urhanus,  belonging  to  the  city ;  and 
civil,  from  civilis,  belonging  to  the  citizen  in  distinction 
from  the  savage,  although  it  by  no  means  follows  that 
every  resident  of  a  city  or  a  state  is  either  urbane  or  civil, 
polite  or  polished.  Some  persoiis  are  so  coarse-grained 
and  obstinate  in  their  natures  that  no  amount  of  attri- 
tion will  wear  them  smooth. 

There  is  an  illustration  of  the  process  that  polishes 
the  manners  of  men  which,  though  somewhat  hack- 
neyed, is  so  good  that  I  will  give  it :  — 

Stones  which  have  not  been  subjected  to  the  attrition 
of  one  another  or  of  water  retain  the  rough  surfaces 
and  sharp  corners  and  edges  which  they  had  when  they 
were  first  broken  from  the  earth's  crust.  But  go  down 
to  the  seashore  or  to  the  river-bed,  and  you  will  find 
that  the  continual  washing  of  the  waves  and  the  roll- 
ing of  the   stones  together  have  polished  their  rough 


206  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

surfaces  and  worn  off  their  sharp  corners  and  jagged 
edges. 

So  men  who  live  much  b}'  themselves  are  apt  to  be 
rude  and  unpolished,  to  have,  so  to  speak,  sharp  corners 
and  jagged  edges.  More  frequent  contact  with  their 
fellow-men  would  render  these  roughnesses  intolerable 
to  themselves  as  well  as  to  their  neighbors,  and  so  they 
would  be  of  necessity  worn  off.  The  country  farmer 
in  the  midst  of  his  wide  acres  has  plenty  of  room  to 
stick  out  his  elbows  as  far  as  he  pleases,  and  as  there 
are  so  few  to  be  offended  by  his  unpolished  speech  and 
his  indifference  to  personal  appearance,  he  may  indulge 
in  them  with  comparatively  little  inconvenience.  But 
imagine  a  crowded  city  in  which  such  were  the  prevail- 
ing speech,  manners  and  dress  !  what  a  chaos  of  rasping 
and  elbowing,  pulling  and  pushing,  mutual  anger  and 
disgust,  it  would  be  !  With  all  the  many  and  great  dis- 
advantages of  city  compared  with  country  life,  it  has, 
at  least,  one  great  advantage  :  it  enforces  mutual  for- 
bearance and  consideration. 

Susan  Perkins.  Do  you  mean  to  imply  that  city  peo- 
ple are  really  more  benevolent  than  country  people  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  By  no  manner  of  means.  Miss  Perkins.  I 
have  been  speaking  of  external  politeness,  or  polish,  to 
show  how  it  is  produced  and,  merely  superficial  as  it  is, 
how  essential  it  is  to  comfort  and  happiness  in  our  in- 
tercourse with  one  another. 

No,  real  benevolence  is  peculiar  to  neither  city  nor 
country.  The  roughest  exterior  may  cover  the  kindest 
and  noblest  heart,  while  the  most  polished  exterior  may 
hide  the  basest  .and  most  selfish.  It  is  nonetheless 
true,  however,  that  the  noble  heart  would  be  all  the 
nobler  if  it  were  not  satisfied  with  benevolence  on  a 
large  scale,  but  condescended  to  little  kindnesses  also. 
Life  is,  after  all,  more  concerned  with  little  than  with 
great  things.  There  are  men  who  would  not  hesitate  to 
lay  down  their  lives  for  their  families,  who  never  think 


POLITENESS.  •    207 

of  the  little  courtesies  which  make  so  much  of  the  sun- 
shine of  life. 

There  are  children  who  in  their  hearts  love  and  ven- 
erate their  parents,  who  nevertheless  shamefully  neglect 
the  visible  and  audible  manifestation  of  their  love  and 
veneration.  Both  parents  and  children  should  know 
that  love  is  a  plant  that  needs  to  put  forth  leaves,  flow- 
ers, and  fruit,  lest,  hardy  as  it  is,  it  may  languish  and 
die. 

There  are  men,  too,  —  you  are  quite  as  likely  to  find 
them  on  the  farm  or  in  the  backwoods  as  in  the  most 
crowded  city,  —  "  Nature's  noblemen,"  who  are  always 
polite,  not  according  to  any  prescribed  code  of  eti- 
quette, but  from  the  unerring  instinct  of  native  refine- 
ment and  a  kind  and  noble  heart.  Theirs  is  the  only 
politeness  which  has  the  true  ring.  I  make  a  distinc- 
tion between  true  politeness  and  mere  external  polish  : 
the  one  is  solid  gold,  only  brightened  by  the  wear  of 
daily  life  like  the  gold  eagle  passed  from  hand  to  hand ; 
the  other  is  but  gilding,  which  soon  wears  off  and 
shows  the  base,  corroded  metal  beneath. 

But  the  purest  gold  is  sometimes  hidden  under  a  sur- 
face of  base  metal ;  it  is  good,  indeed,  to  know  that 
the  gold  is  there,  and  that  it  will  come  out  when  emer- 
gency demands  it,  but  how  much  better  that  it  should 
always  gladden  the  eye !  Let  there  be  no  base  metal 
either  within  or  without. 

Granting,  then,  that  tl^e  heart  is  good  and  true,  how 
shall  the  manners  be  polished  ?  I  have  spoken  of  men 
whose  unerring  instinct  makes  them  always  polite. 
But  goodness  of  heart  alone  is  not  enough  to  give  them 
this  unerring  instinct :  there  must  be  also  refinement 
and  good  taste. 

In  manners  as  well  as  in  morals  it  is  not  safe  for  men 
to  judge  the  standards  of  others  by  their  own.  What 
is  good  enough  for  them  is  not  necessarily  good  enough 
for  others.     A  half-blind  man  should  not  rely  upon  his 


208  •  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

own  perception  in  preparing  things  for  others  to  see. 
Untidy  and  ill-fitting  garments  may  not  offend  their 
"wearers,  but  their  wearers  should  not  suppose,  there- 
fore, that  others  will  view  them  with  like  indifference. 
A  generous,  whole-souled  fellow  may  drum  with  grimy 
fingers  upon  his  plate,  or  use  his  knife  instead  of  his 
fork,  with  the  most  serene  complacency,  totally  obliv- 
ious of  the  fact  that  he  is  inflicting  a  sort  of  mild  tor- 
ture upon  his  neighbors,  who  never  did  him  any  harm. 
This  is  neither  polite  nor  benevolent ;  it  is  not  doing  as 
he  would  be  done  by.  He  should  know  that  all  skins 
are  not  as  thick  as  his  own. 

Trumbull  Butters.  But  how  can  he  be  blamed  if  he 
does  n't  know  any  better  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  He  has  no  right  not  to  know  any  better ; 
he  has  no  right  to  be  guided  by  his  own  standard  of 
taste  and  comfort  where  the  taste  and  comfort  of  others 
are  concerned.  If  he  is  to  mingle  with  other  people  it 
is  his  duty  to  learn  their  requirements  in  manners  as 
well  as  in  morals.  In  fact,  as  I  have  already  plainly 
said,  good  manners  are  properly  included  in  good  mor- 
als. Xo  man  can  justly  be  a  law  unto  himself  in  respect 
to  either :  he  must  abide  by  the  accepted  laws,  and  it  is 
a  recognized  principle  of  all  law  that  an  offender  cannot 
be  exculpated  on  the  plea  of  ignorance. 

Lucy  Snoiv.  I  confess  I  never  thought  of  the  rules 
of  etiquette  in  that  light  before. 

Dr.  Dix.  Is  it  not  the  right  light  ?  The  laws  of 
good  manners  are  as  truly  laws  as  are  those  of  the  civil 
government ;  the  rewards  of  obedience  and  the  penalties 
of  disobedience  are  as  assured. 

Xow,  the  man  who  drums  with  grimy  fingers  on  his 
plate,  and  substitutes  his  knife  for  his  fork,  is  an  ex- 
treme case  of  ignorance  and  vulgarity.  He  and  others 
like  him  are  not  the  only  persons  who  are  satisfied  with 
too  loAV  a  standard  of  good  breeding.  The  girl  who 
shouts  from  the  school-room  window  to  a  companion 


POLITENESS.  ,  209 

across  the  street,  who  tears  her  French  exercise  into  tiny- 
bits  and  showers  them  down  upon  the  floor  in  serene 
obliviousness  of  the  uneasiness  they  cause  her  more 
tidy  neighbors,  who  talks  commonplace  slang  at  home 
and  abroad,  apparently  indifferent  to,  but  secretly  proud 
of,  the  attention  she  is  attracting  from  total  strangers 

—  how  should  she  know  that  their  glances  betoken 
either  disgust  or  an  admiration  that  she  would  rather 
not  aAvaken  ?  —  who  is  affable  and  sweet  to  those  who 
care  little  for  her  and  for  whom  she  cares  as  little,  but 
is  cross  and  snappish  to  those  who  are  all  the  world  to 
her  and  to  whom  she  is  all  the  world,  —  this  girl,  most 
certainly,  has  too  low  a  standard.  She  may  have  a 
heart  of  gold,  but  it  is  so  deeply  buried  under  the  out- 
side coating  of  dross  that  it  is  difficult  to  believe  in  its 
existence,  until  some  crucial  test  comes  to  burn  away 
the  dross  and  reveal  the  gold  pure  and  shining. 

And  the  boy  who  swaggers  and  swears,  with  the  ab- 
surd notion  that  he  is  exciting  general  admiration  for 
his  spirit  and  dash,  instead  of  contempt  and  dislike 
from  all  except  those  on  or  beloAv  his  own  low  plane ; 
who  complacently  sports  his  flashy  jewelry  (the  African 
savage  shows  precisely  the  same  complacency  in  his 
monstrous  adornments)  ;  who  makes  himself  obnoxious 
by  his  aggressive  conduct  in  the  public  thoroughfares 
and  conveyances ;  who  treats  with  flippant  disrespect 
those  whose  superior  age,  wisdom,  and  worth  entitle 
them  to  his  profound  reverence  ;  who  is  unchivalrous 
to  the  other  sex,  especially  his  own  mother  and  sisters, 

—  this  boy  most  assuredly  has  too  low  a  standard,  both 
of  benevolence  and  of  good  breeding. 

Jonathan  Toiver.  Is  n't  something  more  than  benev- 
olence, native  refinement,  and  good  taste  needed  to 
make  people  always  polite  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  I  said  that  one  who  has  these  qualifica- 
tions will  always  be  polite,  though  he  may  not  conform 
to  any  prescribed  code  of  etiquette. 


210  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

Joseph  CrackUn.  That  does  n't  matter  much,  does 
it? 

Dr.  Dix.  The  education  that  one  acquires  in  culti- 
vated society  bears  the  same  relation  to  manners  that 
the  education  of  school  and  college  bears  to  intelligence 
and  learning.  One  can  be  self-taught  in  both  direc- 
tions ;  but  it  is  no  more  than  reasonable  to  suppose 
that  the  combined  judgment  and  good  taste  of  many 
learned  and  cultivated  people  are  superior  to  those  of 
one  person,  however  intelligent  and  refined  by  nature. 

It  is  the  habit  of  some  persons  to  speak  slightingly 
of  the  rules  of  etiquette  ;  but  they  are  generally  those 
who  know  little  of  them.  More  intimate  knowledge 
would  convince  them  that,  for  the  most  part,  these  rules 
are  founded  in  common  sense  and  pure  benevolence,  — 
that  they  are  the  very  best  that  can  be  devised  to  secure 
the  highest  degree  of  ease,  comfort,  and  refined  pleasure 
in  social  intercourse. 


XXXIX. 
PROFANITY  AND  OBSCENITY. 

Dr.  Dix.  Pro,  before ;  faniim,  a  temple.  So  the  old 
Romans  compounded  the  word  from  which  comes  our 
word  profane. 

We  picture  to  ourselves  a  low-browed,  villainous- 
looking  lout  standing  before  the  portico  of  a  noble 
edifice,  and  with  insulting  gestures  pouring  upon  it  a 
torrent  of  vulgar  abuse.  AVhat  to  him  is  the  spotless 
purity  of  that  Pentelican  marble,  the  ineffable  grace  of 
those  fluted  columns  with  their  exquisitely  chiselled 
capitals  ?  What  to  him  is  that  realization  of  the  poet's 
loftiest  dream,  the  marble  imagery  of  the  pediment ;  or 
the  majestic  symmetry  of  the  whole  structure,  which 
seems  instinct  with  the  spirit  of  the  goddess  whose  su- 
perb figure  stands  within  ? 

He  sees  them  all,  —  the  columns,  the  smooth,  pure 
walls,  the  sculptured  gods  and  nymphs;  but  they  in- 
spire no  noble  awe  or  tender  admiration  in  his  base- 
born  soul.  He  stands  there  like  a  dragon  befouling 
them  with  his  fetid  breath. 

It  matters  not  that  the  temple  he  profanes  is  the 
sanctuary  of  a  pagan  religion,  that  the  divinity  he  in- 
sults exists  only  in  the  imagination  of  a  deluded  people. 
It  is  enough  that  the  temple  is  a  sanctuary,  that  the 
divinity  is  to  many  far  nobler  souls  than  his  own  a 
cherished  reality,  that  to  many  other  noble  souls  who 
may  not  believe  in  the  religion  they  represent,  they  are, 
at  least,  the  expression  of  a  lofty  ideal  of  beauty,  power, 
and  majesty. 

Louisa  Thompson.     That  was  the  way  in  which  the 


212  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

most  intelligent  people  of  Greece  and  Rome  looked 
upon  their  divinities,  was  it  not  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  So  the  best  classical  authorities  assure  us. 
Now,  as  you  have  been  told  repeatedly,  this  is  not  the 
place  either  to  attack  or  to  defend  any  of  the  forms  and 
teachings  of  our  modern  religions  ;  but  it  is  both  my 
privilege  and  my  duty  to  impress  upon  you  the  solemn 
obligation  that  rests  upon  you  as  moral  beings,  bound 
to  do  unto  others  as  you  would  that  they  should  do 
unto  you,  to  treat  with  respect  and  veneration  all  that 
is  sacred  from  the  good  there  is  in  it  or  the  good  it  may 
cause,  whether  it  is  ancient  or  modern,  whether  it  is  in 
itself  a  demonstrated  reality  or  only  the  belief  of  good 
and  honest  hearts. 

Profanity  is  the  violation  of  this  most  solemn  obliga- 
tion, if  it  is  not  a  very  much  greater  crime.  Why  does 
a  man  insult  the  name  which  so  many  millions  of  good 
men  and  good  women  regard  as  the  most  sacred  of  all 
names  ?  If  he  believes  it  is  but  a  name,  he  can  have 
no  purpose  but  to  insult  those  Avho  believe  it  is  infi- 
nitely more  ;  otherwise  his  words  have  neither  point 
nor  significance  :  if  he  believes  as  they  do,  what  words 
can  measure  his  awful  wickedness  ? 

Archibald  Watson.  Probably  no  one  who  swears 
realizes  what  he  is  doing. 

Dr.  Dix.  I  am  convinced  of  that.  Surely  no  one 
who  did  realize  it,  whatever  his  religious  belief  or  un- 
belief, would  be  guilty  of  an  offence,  which  of  all  of- 
fences offers  the  smallest  return.  The  profane  swearer 
has  been  aptly  described  as  the  only  gudgeon  among 
men  that  is  caught  with  an  absolutely  naked  hook. 
His  profanity  brings  him  neither  gold,  power,  nor 
glory.  What  does  it  bring  him,  boys  ?  what  does  any 
man  swear  for  ? 

Geoffrey  Jenkins.  He  thinks  it  sounds  bold  and 
reckless  ;  it  gives  him  an  air  of  jaunty  hardihood,  which 
he  and  others  like  him  particularly  admire. 


PROFANITY  AND  OBSCENITY.  213 

Z>r.  Bix.  Yes  ;  it  sounds  bold,  and  reckless,  and 
hardy  ;  but,  as  we  have  said  in  a  very  different  connec- 
tion, "  words  are  cheap."  And  of  all  words,  none  are 
cheaper  in  a  certain  way  (though  they  are  dear  enough 
in  others)  than  the  generality  of  profane  oaths,  —  none 
more  absolutely  meaningless.  Every  one  knows  that 
the  dire  curses  which  fall  so  recklessly  from  the  habit- 
ual swearer's  lips  are  but  the  idlest  of  idle  breath.  He 
curses  with  equal  vigor  what  he  likes  and  what  he 
hates,  his  sonorous  profanity  is  applied  with  utter  im- 
partiality to  what  strikes  his  vulgar  mind  as  good  or 
bad,  beautiful  or  ugly,  honorable  or  mean.  As  to  its 
indicating  real  boldness  or  hardihood,  any  one  that 
would  be  terrified  by  such  senseless  babble,  however 
sonorous  and  blood-curdling  (if  it  really  meant  any- 
thing), must  be  timid  indeed  ! 

"  Shall  I  be  frighted  when  a  madman  stares  ?  " 

asks  Brutus  of  his  choleric  friend.  With  a  very  slight 
change,  the  question  might  be  asked  by  any  of  us, 

Shall  I  be  frighted  when  a  madman  swears  ? 

They  who  understand  human  nature  know  very  well 
that  the  loud-mouthed  blusterer,  whose  hot  oaths  pour 
forth  from  his  mouth  like  a  stream  of  molten  lava  from 
the  crater  of  a  volcano,  is  very  apt  to  be  perfectly 
harmless  as  a  fighting  man.  It  is  the  quiet  man,  whose 
conversation  is  Yea,  yea ;  nay,  nay,  that  is  to  be  guarded 
against  when  his  righteous  wrath  becomes  white-hot 
within  him. 

Joseph  Cracklin.  I  should  think  that  anything  that 
serves  as  an  escape  valve  for  "  white-hot  wrath  "  must 
be  a  good  thing,  even  if  it  is  profanity. 

Dr.  Dix.  Not  for  righteous  wrath,  which  is  the  kind 
I  mentioned.  No  escape  valve  is  wanted  for  that,  — 
there  is  altogether  too  little  of  it  in  the  world  to  cope 
with  the  evils  that  are  rampant. 


214  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

Joseph  CrackUn.  But  what  if  the  wrath  is  not  right- 
eous ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Ah,  then  I  grant  you  that  even  the  pro- 
fanity of  a  bkistering  bully  may  be  the  less  of  two 
evils,  —  that  is,  supposing  his  profanity  serves  as  a 
substitute  for  anything  else,  which,  by  the  way,  is  not 
likely ;  he  is  probably  too  cowardly  to  risk  anything 
but  terrible  w^orcls. 

Joseph  Cracldin.  But  there  are  others  besides  cow- 
ards and  bullies  who  swear. 

Dr.  Dix.  Undoubtedly ;  and  their  swearing  does  not 
prevent  other  forms  of  wickedness.  A  cool,  courageous 
villain  will  accomplish  his  villainy  —  and  swear  too. 
The  point  is,  that  it  is  not  his  swearing  that  shows  his 
courage  or  hardihood.  He  knows  this  as  well  as  others, 
and  he  knows,  too,  that  it  is  not  his  swearing  that  will 
test  the  courage  or  hardihood  of  others  ;  that  if  any 
one  fears  him  it  is  on  account  of  his  lifjhtning,  not  his 
thunder. 

We  will  admit  that  so  far  as  sound  goes,  profanity  is 
bold,  reckless,  and  hardy  ;  but  towards  whom  or  what 
is  the  noisy  boldness,  recklessness,  and  hardihood 
shown  ?  If  the  speaker  believes  that  the  sacred  names 
he  blasphemes  stand  for  nothing,  wherein  does  his  bold- 
ness consist,  even  in  sound  ?  I  have  heard  it  said  that 
when  a  negro  child  in  the  South  wishes  to  be  particu- 
larly insulting  to  his  playmates  he  abuses  their  mothers. 
Is  it  in  a  similar  way  that  the  profane  swearer  desires 
to  show  his  manly  courage  by  insulting  what  multitudes 
of  good  people  hold  most  sacred  ?  If  he  believes  as 
they  do,  is  he  willing  to  accept  the  penalty  he  believes 
he  merits  ?  or  does  he  expect  to  escape  by  timely  re- 
pentance, and  is  that  his  notion  of  covrage  and  honor  ? 
Would  he  utter  his  blasphemies  if  he  believed  that 
merited  punishment  Avould  follow  instantly  upon  the 
offence  ? 

Jonathan  Tower.     But  a  man  does  n't  always  swear 


PROFANITY  AND  OBSCENITY.  215 

because  he  is  angry,  —  lie  does  it  sometimes  simply  to 
be  emphatic  and  forcible,  or  witty. 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes,  I  have  already  credited  him  with 
perfect  impartiality  in  the  bestowal  of  his  epithets. 
Things  are  profanely  good  and  profanely  bad,  profanely 
great  and  j^rofanely  small,  profanely  sad  and  profanely 
funny,  and  so  on  throughout  the  list.  I  will  make  the 
same  remark  about  him  that  1  made  about  the  drunk- 
ard :  his  force,  emphasis,  or  wit  is  of  a  very  cheap  or- 
der. The  really  eloquent  and  witty  man  is  dependent 
upon  neither  alcohol  nor  profanity  for  his  eloquence 
and  wit ;  he  shows  the  genuineness  and  power  of  his 
gifts  by  doing  without  such  aids  :  nothing  shows  essen- 
tial poverty  of  mind  and  character  like  a  reliance  upon 
either. 

But  besides  being  insulting  to  good  men  and  to  the 
Being  whom  so  many  good  men  believe  in  and  worship, 
the  profane  man  is  unutterably  vulgar.  I  return  to  my 
picture  of  the  clown  before  the  beautiful,  noble  temple, 
—  he  is  like  a  dragon  befouling  it  with  his  fetid  breath. 
In  fact,  profanity  is  very  often  and  very  properly  men- 
tioned with,  as  it  is  usually  accompanied  by,  another 
still  grosser  form  of  vulgarity,  of  which  I  shall  now 
speak. 

Virgil  has  typified  obacenitij  in  his  Harpies,  those 
*'  obscene  birds  "  than  which  "  no  more  revolting  hor- 
ror has  come  forth  from  the  Stygian  Avaves."  AMiile 
.ZEneas  and  his  companions  are  feasting  in  the  Stroph- 
ades,  the  disgusting  creatures  swoop  down  upon  their 
banquet  from  the  adjacent  mountains,  with  hoarse,  dis- 
cordant croakings,  flapping  their  great  wings  and  emit- 
ting an  offensive  odor,  and  what  they  do  not  devour  of 
the  feast  they  defile  with  their  horrible  filth. 

The  Harpies  are  not  yet  extinct.  Their  foul  contact 
still  pollutes  many  a  choice  banquet ;  their  trail  is  over 
many  a  fair  fruit  and  beautiful  flower. 

Obscenity    is    filth,  —  uncompromising,    unmitigated 


216  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

filth.  And,  like  all  other  forms  of  corruption,  it  is 
found  in  the  greatest  abundance  at  the  lowest  levels. 
It  is  :iot  usually  the  mountain  top  or  the  wind-swept 
plain  that  calls  loudly  for  the  cleansing  besom,  but  the 
deep  gutter  and  the  rotting  swamp.  So  it  is  among  the 
lowest  classes  of  men  that  both  obscenity  and  profanity 
run  their  wildest  riot.  Savage  races  are  almost  invari- 
ably indescribably  nasty  in  thought  and  word  as  well 
as  in  person  and  habits  of  life,  while  among  civilized 
nations  it  is  most  often  in  the  slums  that  the  house- 
hold words  include  the  foulest  in  the  language. 

But  corruption  does  not  confine  itself  to  the  lowest 
levels.  Its  miasma  rises  and  spreads,  with  greater  or 
less  attenuation,  to  all  heights  and  distances.  It  enters 
the  open  windows  and  doors  of  palace  and  cottage.  It 
is  breathed  alike  by  the  strongest  and  by  the  most  deli- 
cate lungs.  So  the  foul  word  may  fall  upon  the  most 
jealously  guarded  ears. 

But  it  is  not  always  in  the  gutter  or  in  the  swamp  that 
the  poison  has  its  origin :  the  palace  and  the  cottage 
may  breed  their  own  foul  germs.  So  moral  filth  may 
gather  in  the  millionaire's  home,  the  impure  thought 
may  spring  in  the  most  delicately  nurtured  mind,  and 
the  foul  word  may  soil  the  daintiest  lips. 

What  an  incongruous  combination,  scholars  !  a  refine- 
ment that  cannot  brook  a  speck  of  physical  dirt,  but  can 
tolerate,  even  enjoy  perhaps,  moral  nastiness  !  a  fastidi- 
ous taste  that  is  disgusted  by  the  sight  of  a  soiled  glove, 
but  cherishes  the  foul  thought,  and  listens  to  and  utters 
the  foul  word  without  wincing  ! 

How  can  any  one  pretend  to  refinement  or  good  taste 
who  relishes  dirt  of  any  kind,  on  the  outside  of  the 
platter  or  within  ?  And  if  there  must  be  dirt  in  either 
place,  is  it  not  better  that  it  should  be  on  the  outside  ? 
Ah,  yes ;  far  better  soiled  hands,  the  sooty  face,  and 
the  dusty  blouse  without  than  the  impure  mind  within. 

Would  you  keep  clean  from  this  kind  of  filth  ?    Keep 


PROFANITY  AND  OBSCENITY.  217 

the  windows  and  doors  of  your  mind  closed  against  it; 
keep  the  liearthstones  within  clean-swept,  lest  it  gather 
from  within.  Tolerate  no  evil  companion,  book,  or  pic- 
ture. 

It  is  not  that  which  is  external,  but  that  Avhich  is  in- 
ternal, that  deSleth  the  man.  The  microbes  of  disease 
and  death  are  well-nigh  omnij)resent ;  they  infest  the 
air  we  breathe,  the  water  we  drink,  and  the  food  we  eat. 
But  persons  whose  physical  systems  are  in  a  state  of 
vigorous  health  are  rarely  subject  to  their  deadly  inva- 
sion ;  it  is  those  whose  vitality  is  already  impaired  that 
fall  easy  victims.  So,  if  our  hearts  and  minds  are  in 
vigorous  health,  and  especially  if  our  thoughts  are  fully 
occupied  with  good  honest  Avork  and  pleasure  of  one 
kind  and  another,  the  microbes  of  disease  and  death 
that  infest  the  moral  atmosphere  will  not  find  easy 
lodgment  therein. 

"  Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart"  * 


XL. 
WHAT  HAS  ALGEBRA  TO  DO  WITH  VIRTUE? 

Dr.  Dix.  We  will  now  discuss  a  subject  which  we 
promised  to  consider  a  long  time  ago. 

You  are  accustomed  to  hear  education  coupled  with 
morality,  ignorance  with  immorality.  The  common- 
school  system  of  America  is  looked  upon  as  a  greater 
preventive  of  crime  than  all  her  court-houses  and  pris- 
ons. Yet  among  the  list  of  regular  studies  prescribed 
for  schools  there  is  rarely  one  which  has  a  direct  bear- 
ing upon  personal  morality.  In  introducing  this  series 
of  Talks  as  a  regularly  appointed  exercise,  we  have  made 
an  abrupt  departure  from  long  established  custom. 
True,  it  is  required  and  expected  that  instructors  shall 
always  exert  a  good  moral  influence  over  their  pupils, 
that  they  shall  use  their  best  endeavors  to  make  of 
them  good  citizens  and  true,  noble  men  and  women, 
but  there  is  usually  no  special  time  set  apart  for  this 
most  important  of  all  objects.  On  the  contrary,  the 
hours  of  school  are  so  completely  appropriated  to  purely 
intellectual  work,  that,  unless  some  arrangement  is 
made  like  that  which  we  have  adopted,  whatever  time 
is  taken  for  moral  instruction  must  in  a  certain  sense 
be  stolen  or,  to  put  it  more  gently,  must  be  taken  "  un- 
der a  suspension  of  the  rules." 

Nevertheless,  the  desired  result  is  in  a  great  measure 
accomplished,  —  not  so  completely  as  could  be  wished, 
of  course,  or  as  we  hope  it  will  be  accomplished  under 
improved  conditions,  but  yet  so  completely  that,  as  I 
said  in  the  outset,  you  are  accustomed  to  hear  education 
coupled  with  morality,  and  ignorance  with  immorality. 


WHAT  HAS  ALGEBRA  TO  DO  WITH  VIRTUE?    219 

This  being  the  case,  it  follows  that  intellectual  work 
has  a  direct  salutary  effect  upon  the  moral  nature.  It 
is  difficult,  at  first  thought,  to  understand  what  relation 
there  can  be  between  the  two.  How,  for  example,  can 
the  pure  mathematics,  which  of  all  the  subjects  engag- 
ing the  thoughts  of  men  seems  to  have  the  least  relation 
with  either  virtue  or  vice,  make  them  more  honest,  kind, 
temperate,  or  patriotic  ? 

Geoi'fje  Williams.  I  am  glad  you  are  going  to  talk 
about  this  subject.  Dr.  Dix.  I  have  often  wondered, 
when  I  have  heard  so  much  about  school  making  people 
good,  what  algebra  had  to  do  with  virtue. 

Dv.  Dix.  I  cannot  promise  to  answer  the  question 
to  your  satisfaction.  There  are  a  great  many  facts  in 
nature  which  we  can  only  accept  as  facts :  our  attempts 
to  explain  them  go  but  a  very  little  way.  Whjj  one 
plant  bears  grapes  and  another  thistles,  no  man  can 
explain  ;  he  can  only  know  tliat  such  is  the  fact.  Now, 
we  know  that  intellectual  culture  is  a  tree  that  gener- 
ally bears  good  fruit ;  the  experience  of  all  ages  and 
all  countries  has  established  this  beyond  question ;  and 
though  we  may  not  be  able  to  explain  it  in  full,  we  can 
present  some  considerations  Avhich  may  throAv  a  little 
light  upon  it.  We  have  already  incidentally  mentioned 
two  of  these  considerations,  which  I  will  ask  you  to 
review. 

Frederick  Fox.  One  effect  of  intellectual  training  is 
to  inspire  a  love  of  truth  and  a  contempt  for  error.  It 
is  only  the  untrained  mind  that  is  satisfied  with  half- 
truths,  slovenly  conclusions,  iinproved  propositions. 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes  ;  and  it  seems  natural  that  the  mind 
that  is  in  the  habit  of  insisting  upon  the  strict  truth,  or 
the  nearest  possible  approximation  to  it,  in  matters  of 
science,  history,  or  mathematics  should,  at  least,  be 
strongly  predisposed  in  favor  of  the  strict  truth  in  all 
other  matters.     Go  on. 

Isabelle  Anthony.     In  one  of  the  Talks  on  truthful- 


220  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

ness  you  remarked  that  the  person  who  is  thoroughly 
absorbed  in  his  algebra  or  in  his  Greek  cannot  at  the 
same  time  be  engaged  in  blackening  his  neighbor's 
character. 

Dr.  Dix.  Or  in  any  other  kind  of  mischief.  Every 
one  will  admit  that,  if  there  were  no  other  good  result 
of  intellectual  occupation,  this  would  be  enough  to 
establish  its  moral  usefulness. 

George  Williams.  May  not  the  same  thing  be  said  of 
any  kind  of  useful  occupation,  whether  intellectual  or 
physical  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes,  with  modifications.  It  is  generally 
true  that  those  who  are  usefully  occupied  in  any  way 
are  not  engaged  in  mischief  at  the  same  time,  —  not 
actively  engaged,  at  any  rate,  although  it  does  not 
necessarily  follow  that  the  mind  and  the  hands  are 
always  occupied  with  the  same  thing.  "While  the  hands 
are  busy  with  good,  honest  work  the  heart  may  be  as 
busy  in  nourishing  hatred,  revenge,  envy,  pride,  or  dis- 
content ;  and  the  brain  may  be  equally  busy  in  devising 
schemes  for  gratifying  the  bad  passions  of  the  heart. 

George  Williams.  Is  not  that  being  "actively  en- 
gaged in  mischief  "  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Not  in  the  commonly  accepted  sense  of  the 
phrase.  That  demands  the  actual  execution  of  the  evil 
designs  of  the  mind  and  heart,  which,  so  long  as  the 
hands  are  usefully  occupied,  is  not  usually  easy. 

Florence  Hill.  The  useful  employment  of  the  hands 
may  not  prevent  the  tongue  from  doing  mischief  at  the 
same  time. 

Dr.  Dix.  Very  true.  Miss  Hill.  Most  employers 
will  tell  you,  however,  that  an  active  tongue  is  not  often 
found  associated  with  very  busy  hands.  jSTeither,  in- 
deed, for  that  matter,  are  a  mind  and  heart  which  are 
not  fixed  on  the  work  of  the  hands.  Even  in  the  most 
mechanical  employments  the  hands  will  sometimes  lapse 
into  idleness,  that  the  thoughts  may  have  freer  play. 


WHAT  HAS  ALGEBRA  TO  DO  WITH  VIRTUE?    221 

Helen  Mar.  Dr.  Dix,  you  never  attended  a  ladies' 
sewing  circle,  if  you  think  that  the  tongue  and  hands 
cannot  be  busy  at  the  same  time.     \_Laughter.'\ 

Dr.  Dix  \_smiliwj'].  No,  Miss  Mar,  I  confess  I  have 
never  had  that  pleasure.  I  am  speaking  from  my  own 
limited  experience.  With  a  more  extended  experience, 
I  should  undoubtedly  modify  some  of  my  opinions.  But 
let  us  go  on  :  — 

It  is  evident  that  the  only  time  we  are  absolutely 
secure  from  all  temptation  to  evil  is  when  the  thoughts 
are  completely  absorbed  in  some  good  and  useful,  or  at 
least  harmless  occupation.  It  is  also  evident  that  the 
mere  employment  of  the  hands  is  not  enough :  the 
homely  old  lines,  — 

"  For  Satan  finds  some  mischief  still 
For  idle  bands  to  do," 

should  be  understood  to  include  idle  brains  and  hearts 
as  well. 

Now,  it  would  be  absurd  to  claim  that  algebra,  Greek, 
geography,  and  the  other  branches  that  occupy  so  much 
of  our  attention  here  are  the  only  things  that  can  com- 
pletely absorb  men's  thoughts.  It  might  even  be  said 
of  certain  individuals  among  us,  whom  I  will  not  name, 
that  these  studies  are  about  the  only  things  that  cannot 
completely  absorb  their  thoughts.  [^Laughter.~\  But  we 
will  suppose  that  they  fulfil  their  mission,  that  they 
are  among  the  good,  useful,  at  least  harmless,  things 
which  absorb  men's  attention,  and  thus  keep  them  from 
possible  mischief.  We  have  already  a  pretty  good  an- 
swer to  the  question,  "What  has  algebra  to  do  with 
virtue  ?  " 

Louisa  Thomi)son.  Why  should  unoccupied  minds, 
or  rather  those  which  are  free  to  act  according  to  the 
impulse  of  each  moment,  —  for  I  suppose  it  is  true  that 
no  waking  mind  can  be  really  unoccupied,  —  why  should 
they  be  so  prone  to  evil  ?  why  shouldn't  they  be  equally 
prone  to  good  ? 


222  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

Dr.  Dix.  Why,  indeed  ?  It  is  a  question  easy  to 
ask,  but  hard  to  answer.  It  seems  to  be  the  general 
policy  of  Nature  that  good  should  be  the  prize  of  effort 
and  evil  the  penalty  of  idleness.  A  garden  left  to  itself 
bears  a  crop  of  ugly,  useless,  or  noxious  weeds,  with 
only  now  and  then  a  pleasing  flower  or  a  wholesome 
fruit.  A  mind  left  to  its  own  undirected  thoughts  is 
very  much  like  the  neglected  garden.  AVhat  a  crop  of 
rambling,  inane  fancies,  of  unreasoning  discontent,  of 
foolish  sighing  for  the  impossible,  or  perhaps  of  hatred, 
envy,  and  impurity,  with  all  their  poisonous,  bitter 
fruits,  it  will  bear  ! 

Frederick  Fox.  Yet  some  of  the  brightest  thoughts 
in  literature  and  even  some  of  the  important  discov- 
eries in  science  are.  said  to  have  been  struck  out  in  an 
idle  hour. 

Dr.  Dix.  Not  often,  however,  by  habitually  idle 
minds.  The  unoccupied  hours  of  habitually  busy  minds 
are  not  what  we  are  speaking  of.  The  busiest  worker 
must  have  his  hours  of  rest.  Still,  there  may  be  excep- 
tions to  the  rule  I  have  been  laying  down.  As  I  have 
said,  the  neglected  garden  may  bear,  now  and  then,  a 
pleasing  flower  or  a  wholesome  fruit. 

But  the  moral  function  of  intellectual  work  is  not 
alone  to  prevent  evil  or  useless  thoughts  by  preoccupy- 
ing the  ground,  —  it  has  also  a  positive  influence  upon 
the  moral  nature. 

It  is  commonly  said  that  a  large  proportion  of  our 
acts  have  none  of  what  is  called  the  moral  qualit}^ ;  that 
is,  they  are  in  themselves  neither  virtuous  nor  vicious. 
The  act  of  buying  and  paying  for  a  piece  of  property 
for  pleasure  or  convenience  might  be  mentioned  as  an 
instance.  That  of  studying  a  lesson  in  algebra  or  Greek 
in  school  would  seem,  at  first  thought,  to  be  another 
equally  good  example.  A  little  consideration  will  show 
us,  however,  that  it  is  essentially  different  from  the 
first  mentioned.     In  the  first  place,  it  calls  into  play 


WHAT  HAS  ALGEBRA  TO  DO  WITH  VIRTUE?    223 

industry  and,  usnally,  self-denial,  two  important  virtues  ; 
in  tlie  next,  it  disciplines  the  mind,  between  which  and 
the  heart  there  is  a  closer  connection  than  many  sup- 
pose. Our  three  natures,  the  moral,  the  intellectual, 
and  the  physical,  are  not  separated  by  distincft  lines  of 
demarcation,  like  adjacent  states  on  the  map :  there  is  a 
subtle  interweaving  among  them,  like  that  of  the  three 
primary  colors  in  a  ray  of  light.  The  same  blood  that 
nourishes  our  muscles  nourishes  our  hearts  and  our 
brains.  Each  of  man's  three  natures  suffers  or  is  bene- 
fited with  the  rest.  But  what  affects  his  intellectual 
nature  seems  to  be  especiall}'  marked  in  its  effects  upon 
the  other  two.  Intellectual  Greece  and  Rome,  cruel 
as  they  were,  surpassed  the  barbarians  around  them 
no  less  in  humanity  than  in  physical  prowess.  To-day 
the  educated  European  is  su})erior  to  the  Australian 
savage  both  in  his  bodily  and  in  his  moral  stature,  and 
among  civilized  men  those  of  purely  intellectual  pur- 
suits are,  as  a  class,  not  only  among  the  longest-lived, 
but  also  among  the  most  virtuous. 

We  conclude,  then,  scholars,  that  intellectual  training 
does  not  stop  with  the  intellect,  but  that  it  strengthens 
and  ennobles  the  whole  threefold  nature  of  man. 

Joseph  Cracklin.  I  have  heard  that  it  makes  only  the 
good  man  better,  — that  it  makes  the  bad  man  worse. 

Dr.  Dix.  If  that  be  true,  the  vast  majority  of  men 
must  be  good,  —  otherwise  our  prisons  and  penitentiaries 
would  he  the  centres  of  learning,  instead  of  our  schools 
and  colleges. 


XLI. 

HOME  AND  COUNTRY:  THE  GOOD  SON  AND  THE  GOOD 
CITIZEN. 

Dr.  Dix.  The  child's  habit  is  to  take  things  for 
granted,  to  accept  the  blessings  of  home  and  country 
as  matters  of  course,  like  sunshine  and  water.  As  he 
grows  older  it  gradually  dawns  upon  him  that  these 
blessings  do  not  come  of  themselves,  but  are  the  fruits 
of  unremitting  labor  and  care.  Still  later  he  begins  to 
realize  that  the  time  is  not  far  distant  when  he  must 
bear  his  share  of  the  burden. 

The  management  of  such  a  countr}^  and  government 
as  ours  is  a  most  momentous  responsibility.  It  requires 
the  highest  statesmanship,  the  stanchest  loyalty,  and 
eternal  vigilance.  Those  upon  whom  that  responsibil- 
ity now  rests  will  soon  pass  away,  and  you  and  your 
generation  will  be  called,  by  your  suffrages  and  personal 
influence  at  least,  to  take  their  places.  The  older  you 
grow,  if  you  fulfil  the  law  of  your  being,  the  less  you 
will  live  for  yourselves  alone. 

Let  us  talk  this  morning  of  those  great  responsibili- 
ties that  are  coming  to  you  all. 

In  one  of  our  earlier  Talks,  we  spoke  of  the  heroic 
soldier  as  a  human  type  of  that  perfect  fidelity  to  duty 
which  we  saw  in  the  inanimate  and  in  the  lower  animate 
creatures.  Neither  he  nor  they  exist  for  themselves 
alone,  but  for  the  great  wholes  of  which  they  are  parts. 

The  strength  and  efiicieney  of  an  army  depend  upon 
the  faithfulness  of  each  member  of  it ;  the  harmony  of 
the  universe  depends  upon  the  fidelity  to  law  of  each 
world  that  rolls,  of  each  atom  that  vibrates. 


HOME  AND  COUNTRY.  225 

The  good  citizen  is  another  human  type  of  the  same 
fidelity  to  the  general  good. 

To  make  each  one  of  you  a  good  citizen  is  the  great 
object  of  all  these  Talks  and  of  all  our  other  efforts  in 
school. 

The  first  duty  of  either  men  or  things  is  obedience. 
Universal  faithfulness  to  this  duty  would  bring  about 
universal  harmony  ;  universal  neglect  of  it  would  bring 
about  universal  chaos. 

No  stage  or  position  in  life  is  exempt  from  the  duty 
of  obedience.  The  child  owes  it  to  his  parents,  the  pu- 
pil to  his  teachers,  the  workman  to  his  employers,  the 
soldier  to  his  officers,  the  citizen  to  his  rulers,  and  all 
to  the  laws  under  which  the}'  live,  especially  to  the 
laws  of  morality  and  the  dictates  of  conscience. 

George  Willianis.  Suppose  there  is  a  conflict  of  au- 
thorities ? 

Dr.  Dix.  In  all  cases  precedence  is  to  be  given  to 
the  highest,  which  I  named  last. 

George  Williams.  Then  a  child  may  disobey  his  par- 
ents if  his  conscience  so  dictates  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Certainly.  But  he  must  be  sure  that  his 
conscience  is  right  and  his  parents  are  wrong :  he  must 
bear  in  mind  their  .siiperior  age,  wisdom,  and  experience, 
and  the  possibility  that  he  does  not  understand  what 
may  be  good  and  sufficient  reasons  for  their  commands. 
If  they  should  order  him  to  commit  an  unmistakably 
criminal  or  immoral  act,  it  is  not  only  his  right  but  his 
duty  to  disobey  them ;  in  all  other  cases  it  is  his  duty 
to  trust  to  their  judgment  and  parental  fidelity.  Grati- 
tude and  natural  affection  should  incline  him  to  obedi- 
ence where  otherwise  he  might  hesitate. 

Do  you  realize,  boys  and  girls,  what  you  owe  your- 
parents  ?     Think  of  your  infancy,  of  the  tender  care 
and  the  utter  forgetfulness  of  self  with  which  your 
helplessness  was  guarded  and  your  every  need  supplied ; 
of  the  long,  long  years  of  your  childhood,  of  the  won- 


226  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

derful  patience  with  which  your  folly,  petulance,  and 
thoughtless  ingratitude  were  borne,  —  not  merely  borne, 
but  repaid  with  unremitting  devotion  to  your  happiness 
and  welfare. 

This  devotion  still  continues.  Xever  so  long  as  you 
live  will  your  parents  cease  to  love  you  better  than 
themselves,  to  hold  your  interests  more  sacred  than 
their  own.  You  can  never  repay  them  for  all  their  love 
and  self-sacrifice,  —  the}^  do  not  ask  for  repayment,  — 
but  you  can  make  them  happy  by  your  grateful  rever- 
ence and  obedience  in  your  youth  ;  you  can  make  them 
happy  and  proud  by  leading  noble,  upright,  and  aspir- 
ing lives  in  your  manhood  and  womanhood,  and  you 
can  bless  their  declining  years  by  returning  some  of 
the  devotion  and  self-sacrifice  which  they  lavished  so 
freely  upon  you  in  the  years  of  your  helplessness. 

You  owe  all  this  not  only  to  them,  but  also  to  your- 
jF  selves  and  to  your  country  ;( for  the  most  dutiful  son  is 
likely  to  become  the  most  faithful  citizen.  As  he  j^asses 
out  from  under  the  parental  roof,  the  filial  obedience 
and  fealty  which  he  has  so  long  practised  will  be  most 
likely  to  extend  to  "  Father-land,"  to  "  Mother-country." 
He  will  recognize  a  similar  debt  of  gratitude  for  bless- 
ings received,  great  and  manifold,  and  a  similar  obliga- 
tion to  stand  by  and  siipport  with  heart,  brain,  and  hand. 

The  man  otherwise  intelligent  and  honest  who  neg- 
lects his  duties  to  his  country,  from  indolence,  cidpable 
ignorance  of  what  these  duties  are,  selfish  absorption  in 
his  own  private  interests,  or  the  mistaken  notion  that 
she  does  not  need  his  help,  is  unworthy  of  a  country 
bought  by  the  blood  of  his  fathers  and  preserved  by 
the  blood  of  his  brothers.  She  does  need  his  help,  his 
■  most  earnest  and  constant  help :  to  defend  her  from 
her  enemies,  and  to  strengthen  the  hands  of  her  friends ; 
to  protect  her  treasure  from  the  spoiler,  and  her  public 
places  from  those  Avho  seek  to  gratify  only  their  own 
greed  and  selfish  ambition.    There  was  no  lack  of  public 


HOME  AND   COUNTRY.  227 

spirit  among  tlie  founders  of  the  republic.  It  was  their 
devotion  to  the  public  good  and  their  sacrifice  of  private 
interest  to  it  which  gave  us  the  best  government  on 
earth.  It  is  only  a  like  devotion  among  their  descend- 
ants which  can  keep  it  the  best  government  on  earth. 
The  immortal  epigram,  "  Eternal  vigilance  is  the  price 
of  liberty,"  was  never  more  true  than  it  is  to-day,  and 
it  will  never  be  less  true. 

You  hear  men  excusing  their  neglect  of  public  duty 
by  the  plea  that  politics  has  degenerated  to  a  contempti- 
ble, mercenary  trade,  and  that  no  self-respecting  man 
will  have  anything  to  do  with  it.  Happily  their  charge 
is  only  partially  true ;  there  are  still  noble,  unselfish 
statesmen  and  loyal  patriots  in  public  places,  there  are 
still  multitudes  of  men  who  vote,  as  they  would  fight, 
for  their  country's  best  good.  But  if  the  charge  were 
wholly  trvie,  those  who  bring  it  could  blame  none  but 
themselves. 

These  very  men,  honest,  honorable,  intelligent,  and 
at  heart  patriotic,  are  in  the  vast  majority  if  they  but 
knew  it :  they  have  the  power  in  their  own  hands  if 
they  chose  to  exercise  it.  It  is  not  the  great  mass  of 
voters  who  are  to  be  benefited  (nor  Avould  they  be  bene- 
fited if  they  could)  by  the  plunder  of  the  public  treas- 
ury ;  it  is  not  they  that  wish  the  chairs  of  office  to  be 
filled  by  those  who  seek  only  their  own  interests.  If 
the  good  men  and  true  of  the  nation  would  bestir  them- 
selves, take  a  little  pains  to  inform  themselves  of  what 
is  going  on  all  around  them,  and  of  the  proper  steps  to 
take  the  whole  control  of  elections  into  their  own  hands, 
they  would  make  short  work  of  the  fraud,  corruption, 
and  trickery  which  are  such  a  reproach  to  our  still  fair 
republic.  The  "  machine  "  is  formidable  only  to  those 
who  are  too  indolent  or  too  timid  to  walk  straight  up  to 
it  and  see  what  a  mere  scarecrow  it  really  is.  It  could 
not  stand  against  the  persistent  opposition  of  the  united 
honesty  and  patriotism  of  the  land. 


228  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

Frederick  Fox.  The  general  prosperity  is  so  great, 
notwithstanding  the  evils  you  name,  that  it  is  hard  to 
arouse  the  people.  They  see  the  public  corruption 
plainly  enough,  but  they  think  the  country  can  stand 
it,  and  so  they  do  not  think  it  worth  while  to  take  the 
pains  to  correct  it. 

Dr.  Dix.  Yes,  Fox,  that  is  the  great  trouble.  As 
some  one  has  truly  said,  the  danger  to  a  small  republic 
comes  from  without,  to  a  great  republic  it  comes  from 
within.  When  the  existence  of  our  government  was 
unmistakably  in  danger,  men  forgot  their  pursuit  of 
gain,  pleasure,  and  personal  power,  and  rushed  bravely 
to  its  defence.  Now  that  it  is,  as  they  imagine,  no 
longer  in  danger  of  actual  destruction,  they  do  not 
concern  themselves  with  the  smaller  dangers  to  which 
it  is  exposed.  The}'*  are  like  a  man  who  will  peril  his 
life  to  protect  his  home  from  a  pack  of  hungry  wolves, 
but  will  carelessly  and  stupidly  allow  it  to  be  slowly 
undermined  by  vermin  or  dry  rot  without  lifting  a  fin- 
ger to  save  it. 

Cato  said,  "When  vice  prevails  and  impious  men 
bear  sway,  the  post  of  honor  is  a  private  station."  It 
was  such  sentiments  as  this  which  hastened  imperial 
Rome  to  her  ruin  ;  and  if  our  own  great  republic  shall 
ever  fall,  it  will  be  due  to  the  same  cowardly  and  sel- 
fish sentiment  prevailing  among  those  who  should  be 
her  saviours. 

But  she  will  not  fall.  Men  will  not  always  love  their 
private  ease  better  than  their  country's  good ;  they  will 
see  that  the  "  post  of  honor  "  is  never  a  "  private  sta- 
tion" when  she  is  in  peril  either  from  without  or 
within. 

George  Williams.  It  is  of  very  little  use  for  any  one 
man  or  for  any  small  body  of  men  to  come  to  her  res- 
cue. Even  if  it  is  true  that  all  the  honest  and  patri- 
otic men  might  take  the  control  of  affairs  into  their 
own  hands  by  uniting,  what  good  is  there  in  that,  so 


HOME  AND  COUNTRY.  229 

long  as  they  will  not  unite  ?  What  would  the  attempt 
of  a  few  amount  to  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  It  Avoulcl  amount  to  an  honest,  faithful 
attempt;  it  would  amount  to  their  doing  their  duty, 
even  if  all  other  "  honest  and  patriotic  "  men  neglected 
theirs. 

Georrje  Williams.  But  they  could  n't  accomplish  any- 
thing. 

Dr.  Dix.  Could  n't  accomplish  anything  !  They  are 
the  ones  who  are  destined  to  accomplish  the  salvation 
of  the  country.  Each  year  they  will  grow  stronger; 
each  year  thousands  will  be  encouraged  by  their  grow- 
ing strength  to  rally  under  their  standard.  That  is  the 
way  all  great  reforms,  from  the  very  foundation  of  the 
world,  have  been  accomplished. 

Frederick  Fox.  One  chief  difficulty  is  that  there  are 
so  great  differences  of  opinion  among  really  honest  and 
patriotic  men.  Might  not  this  alone  give  the  balance 
of  power  to  fraud  and  corruption,  even  if  indolence  and 
selfish  neglect  of  duty  did  not  ? 

Dr.  Dix.  Differences  of  honest  opinion  there  must 
necessarily  be  ;  but  they  Avould  be  enormously  dimin- 
ished if  men  would  but  take  the  pains  to  sift  more  care- 
fully the  evidences  on  which  their  opinions  are  based. 

Jonathan  Tower.  How  can  they  do  this  ?  What  one 
party  journal  declares  the  other  party  journal  contra- 
dicts, —  and  I  suj^pose  most  men  will  believe  their  own 
paper  rather  than  its  political  rival. 

Dr.  Dix.  AVhen  you  get  to  be  voters  I  hope  you  will 
not  be  slaves  either  to  your  party  journals  or  to  your 
parties  themselves.  Don't  be  satisfied  with  a  party  name, 
however  respectable  or  historic.  Attend  its  meetings, 
find  out  for  yourselves  what  its  principles  and  repre- 
sentative men  are  to  be  before  you  commit  yourselves 
to  its  support.  Do  not  receive  your  ticket  already 
cut  and  dried;  have  a  voice  and  hand  yourself  in  its 
making-up. 


230  CHARACTER  BUILDING. 

Jonathan  Toiver.     How  can  we  do  that  ? 

Dr.  D'lx.  By  being  alive  and  awake  at  the  primary 
meetings. 

Not  that  your  vigilance  should  end  there.  "  Eternal 
vigilance  is  the  price  of  liberty."  But  he  who  would 
control  the  course  of  an  arrow  will  do  well  to  have  a 
hand  and  an  eye  in  its  aiming.  Once  sped,  only  a  strong 
wind  can  turn  the  direction  of  its  flight.  Especially 
would  I  warn  you  against  feeling  in  the  least  degree 
bound  by  the  decisions  of  "  our  party,"  unless  they 
accord  with  your  own  convictions  of  what  is  expedient 
and  what  is  right. 

Do  not  admit  the  necessity  of  choosing  between  evils. 
If  you  can  agree  with  none  of  the  great  political  parties 
in  what  you  honestly  regard  as  essential  to  the  welfare 
and  honor  of  the  state,  join  the  party  with  which  you 
can  agree,  no  matter  how  feeble  and  insignificant  it  may 
appear  at  first.  If  it  is  really  in  the  right,  it  is  destined 
to  triumph  sooner  or  later,  and  you  will  have  the  proud 
satisfaction,  the  glory,  of  being  one  of  its  pioneers. 

You  are  preparing  to  take  your  places  among  the 
educated  men  and  women  of  our  nation.  Upon  you  as 
such  will  devolve  the  greatest  power,  the  greatest  influ- 
ence, the  highest  responsibility.  Kemember  that  the 
noblest  product  of  education  is  i 

The  Good  Citizen, 


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